EMPTY STARS

It’s like being stationed in an observatory, but without the telescope to provide that closer view of the distant. Perhaps, the only far-reaching instrument at work in my present state is the seclusion driving me crazy. I’m currently trying to seek solace in my room’s chalice: staring into the sky adorned with grains of stardust poured out for the optical pleasure of humankind.

My strange desire for these shimmering masses of energy has been borne out of the immeasurable surge of loneliness, much stronger than earlier envisaged. My colleague just distracted the deadly description I was about to unleash. But I’ll disintegrate the complexity breeding in my bowels before my eyes begin to feel weary. I must be gazing at one of the many constellations which seems to be mystical or something out of the ordinary. I postulate that of Pegasus, which seems fascinating enough for a quiet enthusiast of the night sky. Maybe the aerial-bound horse would tickle many a fancy, but the fact that this mythical mammal remains upside down, sums up the current state of affairs this gentlemen is juggling with.

Are my hormones just messing with me? Well, I can’t say for sure. There is that one thing burrowing into my soul though: emptiness. With an episode of disappointment just passing by, the once impregnable sense of security I cherished may have suffered a severe jolt. Nothing seems impossible now, I mean, apart from translocation taking place with the sudden blink of my simple eye: where I could appear in Beirut or Bangkok from my current position, my wildest imagination and fears have a chance in the “real world” game show. That probably explains why I sleep so much; my dreams supersede the very obvious reality.

I should be lying If I told you I’m feeling much better since I begun stroking my keyboard. In fact, my inner contents feel like gushing out at the least instigation. This condition might draw suggestions of nausea or something similar. But trust me, I’ve checked my temperature and it’s high enough to restore the icebergs melting on the Arctic. Let’s hope that some stars would decide to collapse in on themselves and create a black hole, that would swallow me and gradually allow gravity modify time: sending me into another dimension offering more happiness and less pain.

Emptiness fills this brief, with nothing but gloom and grief....