How strange seems
The silence when no one listens:
The power lurking
Behind thought and
Quaking leaves, shimmering,
Blowing in the breeze.
In, I turn, slowly, silently,
Quickly, brazenly,
Wondering when it will all end.
Life, love, liberty, death.
All are dead to me but the last.
And where are you now,
When I need you most?
What happened to forever?
Blow after blow landed on the punching bag, as if all the world's sorrows were its fault. It swung, back and forth, like a pendulum caught in a storm. a tempest with raging wind. It's attacker grunted and sweated with the effort, his face contorted in a mask of fury and anguish. Another fist struck, this time sending the heavy bag into the wall. It's return, it's opposite and equal reaction, brought it pounding back into it's attacker.
His mask broke. All the fury turned to anguish and he let out a wail. A cry that expressed more than his share of pain. The final cry of a dying animal, such was the power, the suffering.
Hysterics broke loose. The room was filled with tears as the poor boy, so young yet so hurt, looked around in vain for a way out. Eyes alighting on a window. Eyes moving to the door. Eyes blinded by tears. No way out. His mind was screaming. No way out! He clawed at his hair, the very picture of agony.
The punching bag swong back and forth, gently now that the torrent of fists was no longer upon it, creaking softly on it's chain. The boy's tears eased. He was now ashamed of his outbreak, his giving in to pain. He knew he wasn't supposed to feel sorry for himself, but still he grieved. Three years, and the pain was like it had happened three minutes ago, but worse because it had aged and matured and would not be ignored.
Despair, yes that is it. That is what he felt. Despair like in the Bible. Despair where all you can do is think about yourself and how pitiful your position is and how you'll never ever be happy again. God said his followers should never dispair, but what about His non-followers? His followers died. His non-followers lived and dispaired in their absense. The boy--though he was not really a boy, but in his shrunken broken state, he seemed as one--stood.
His legs felt shakey. Strengthless. Was that a word? He couldn't remember. Ackward as it was, it fit him. Strengthless. No strength left to go on, yet he walked to the bathroom.
By now, his crying had stopped. His anger had left him. His emotions had sapped all his energy leaving him a strengthless shell of a man. His energy had been sucked dry like a vampire sucks blood, gorging it's self until nothing is left. He supported himself on the sink and turned it on. Cold. He splashed the water on his face. Icy. Like his eyes. Like he wished his heart was, but it wasn't. It was warm and it beat his name. Yet his heart was stoney, splattered across space, never whole but eternaly broken. Ripped and torn forever.
Speaking of forever, what happened to "I'll always be there" and "you can always count on me" and "I love you more than anything. I'll love you forever." What happened to that forever.
The tormented boy started the bath. Hot. Hot unlike his frozen soul. Heat to warm up his heart, forzen, beating the name of his lover gone away. Beating love like blood pumping out a mortal wound. Losing it, losing it fast so that nothing is left. Nothing but a body.
Bath almost full. He unbound his hair, undressed, and stepped in. His hair was lighter than the water. It floated, dark slender fingers clawing at the water. The bathroom was dark, but in the light from a small window, he could see the steam rising off the water. He could almost feel the water scalding his skin if he concentrated. Otherwise, he was numb. He was just a body with out a spirit.
Before he took out the knife, he started crying again. Crying for himself, again. Crying for his own pain. He took the knife out of the pocket of the pants on the floor next to his tub. Swiftly, deftly... ouch.
The blood flowed freely, blossoming out of the slice on his left wrist. His blood. Mingling with the water, intertwining with it. Embracing it like he embraced that blond death so long ago. Not so long ago. Only yesterday. He could see the blue eyes before him. Swiftly, defty... ouch. Now the other wrist. Not long now. Soon they would be together. And when together, they would truely define forever. No matter what it took, they would be forever. Forever.
And that was the same work he was thinking as he lay there, dying in the bathtub. "I'll be with you Zechs. Soon. Soon I'll be there. Can you wait a little while longer? Just a few more drops. What a few drops to eternity?"