Empty
Act IV
Empty, you say.
And no. No, no, no, no. There must be something, anything. And no no no. It can’t be gone all gone.
Empty.
And void is eating into retinas.
Empty.
Abyss is strangling vocal chords.
Empty and I can hear the silence pressing against my eardrums. I can hear that missing something. I can hear the empty.
Sodium chloride infested liquid then begins leaking, chemical burn scratching red onto my cheeks and clawing carmine beneath my eyes. Not Hollywood-movie-beautiful – heartrending porcelain-skin girl with glass tears painting glistening tragedy. No. Puffy, pathetic, red-blossoming skin and dead, dead, dead eyes. Real life.
And in real life nothing is beautiful.
In real life. Oh. Oh, oh, oh, in real life we’re always caught in a comedy. See? We can even laugh at the comparison. Ha ha ha real life and movie are nothing alike.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
But they are. They are and it’s the biggest gag of all times. Twenty-four hour seven days a week worth of laughter. Only the joke is on you. Always.
And you’d think comedies have happy endings al la Greek or Roman definition. Oh, don’t worry; they we’re right. It will be a happy ending – you’ll die. We die. All of us die in the end.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Six-feet-under-ground kind of happy ending.
Oh, but by all means, carry on, carry on; don’t mind me. Nonsensical babble, don’t listen. Of course I’m okay. See? I can smile. See? Happy face – sugar glazed lips strawberry-curled, opal iris Catherine Wheel sparkling, dimples softly kissing cheeks. I can pretend too.
We’re all actors in a movie.
Play-pretending, performing – pirouetting in perfect put-on twirls.
Manuscript-dialogues, marionette-actions and Venice mask faces in gold and white and bright, beautiful colors.
We act and we hide and we lie, lie, lie.
And you’re smiling too now.
We may not think we do but we always lie. And we think we mean all the meaningless word-patterns we create and share and toss around. But we don’t. And why would it even matter? We’re all going to die anyway.
Dead, dead, dead and six-feet-underground fucking big-happy-grin comedy.
No. I’m done. No and no and I don’t want to hear it. I’m through with this. I don’t want to see the empty anymore.
One more second of having to stare into nothing echoing forever in all endless eternity and the mind will short-circuit – brainwaves choking on incomprehensibility, synapses hyperventilating trying to grasp infinitive nothingness. But with eyes closed some of it feels the same. Kisses still melted smiles, embrace still heartbeats waltzing together. But then the emptiness seeps into the actions. And it’s almost mechanical.
Acting, acting, acting. Mind and body and soul.
No heart.
But we kiss each other just the same way and hold each other just the same way and maybe never loved each other to being with? Or is it just that the last fading, dying ounce of love is left lingering in locked-together lips and clingy embraces?
You smile. I smile.
In the end words are all lies, all lies. But aren’t smiles just as much of a lie? Aren’t smiles empty just like words?
I-love-you was a pretty mask. The mask you’re wearing now is white so white and.
Empty.
And no. No, no, no, no. There must be something, anything. And no no no. It can’t be gone all gone.
Empty.
And void is eating into retinas.
Empty.
Abyss is strangling vocal chords.
Empty and I can hear the silence pressing against my eardrums. I can hear that missing something. I can hear the empty.
Sodium chloride infested liquid then begins leaking, chemical burn scratching red onto my cheeks and clawing carmine beneath my eyes. Not Hollywood-movie-beautiful – heartrending porcelain-skin girl with glass tears painting glistening tragedy. No. Puffy, pathetic, red-blossoming skin and dead, dead, dead eyes. Real life.
And in real life nothing is beautiful.
In real life. Oh. Oh, oh, oh, in real life we’re always caught in a comedy. See? We can even laugh at the comparison. Ha ha ha real life and movie are nothing alike.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
But they are. They are and it’s the biggest gag of all times. Twenty-four hour seven days a week worth of laughter. Only the joke is on you. Always.
And you’d think comedies have happy endings al la Greek or Roman definition. Oh, don’t worry; they we’re right. It will be a happy ending – you’ll die. We die. All of us die in the end.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
Six-feet-under-ground kind of happy ending.
Oh, but by all means, carry on, carry on; don’t mind me. Nonsensical babble, don’t listen. Of course I’m okay. See? I can smile. See? Happy face – sugar glazed lips strawberry-curled, opal iris Catherine Wheel sparkling, dimples softly kissing cheeks. I can pretend too.
We’re all actors in a movie.
Play-pretending, performing – pirouetting in perfect put-on twirls.
Manuscript-dialogues, marionette-actions and Venice mask faces in gold and white and bright, beautiful colors.
We act and we hide and we lie, lie, lie.
And you’re smiling too now.
We may not think we do but we always lie. And we think we mean all the meaningless word-patterns we create and share and toss around. But we don’t. And why would it even matter? We’re all going to die anyway.
Dead, dead, dead and six-feet-underground fucking big-happy-grin comedy.
No. I’m done. No and no and I don’t want to hear it. I’m through with this. I don’t want to see the empty anymore.
One more second of having to stare into nothing echoing forever in all endless eternity and the mind will short-circuit – brainwaves choking on incomprehensibility, synapses hyperventilating trying to grasp infinitive nothingness. But with eyes closed some of it feels the same. Kisses still melted smiles, embrace still heartbeats waltzing together. But then the emptiness seeps into the actions. And it’s almost mechanical.
Acting, acting, acting. Mind and body and soul.
No heart.
But we kiss each other just the same way and hold each other just the same way and maybe never loved each other to being with? Or is it just that the last fading, dying ounce of love is left lingering in locked-together lips and clingy embraces?
You smile. I smile.
In the end words are all lies, all lies. But aren’t smiles just as much of a lie? Aren’t smiles empty just like words?
I-love-you was a pretty mask. The mask you’re wearing now is white so white and.
Empty.