by Charles Fischer

Created on: January 05, 2009

When I see the sun rise, I feel nothing.

I can see the warm orange glaze tint the snow.

I can hear the singular silence of the frozen pines.

But silence is all I feel.

I want to hear a warm voice beside me;

the cheer of a healthy laugh, or the sweetness of a lover's
whisper.

Here I can't feel beauty without falling into the emptiness that is mine.

Sadness is a hollow where I cannot give in.

I wish I could release it in an explosion of emotion, scream to the trees with pain only matched in the pleasure of expressing it.

But this place is a congealing dullness, a spinal tap of suppression.

Created by a collection of ideals fermented in the bitter crevice of my mind

where I long ago digested the key.

A pitiful creature I'll remain,

until, shattering the ideals I hold up to others,

I slip into the quiescent joy of a dream where I am not alone.

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