The Disparities of Despair
image credit: voices by xetobyte
Ashes fall to the floor,
A multitude of arms reach out from the walls,
Continuous thumps are beating against the door,
Whispers seep its way into the mind,
Each of which happening simultaneously,
As he sits by the edge of his murky mattress…
Boiling over the frustrations he cannot overcome,
Exasperated from meaningless social encounters,
Burdened by the troubles of others,
Leaving his own weight unattended.
His weight is heavy from the ashes piling on the floor,
His right-hand trembles with the pen in his hand,
His left-hand grips tightly on the cheap notebook,
His mind tries to focus on an idea,
But the whispers… oh the whispers…
They create conjectures within the mind.
“What are you doing…?”
“Explain yourself!”
“Get up. They’re coming…”
“No, he needs to focus.”
Erratic, are the whispers…
“You’re in danger, get out...”
The longer he sits, the louder they scream,
“Where is he supposed to go?!”
The louder they scream, the deeper he falls in,
“There’s only one way out.”
The deeper he falls in, the higher the intensity,
“They’re waiting on the other side!!!”
The higher the intensity, the bolder the uncertainties.
“Best to stay put, away from harm…”
He continues to sit and adhere to the voices,
“They’re still banging on the door!”
Or at least a selection of them,
“What if they find a way in…?”
Never mind the frantic noise,
“What do you mean if they find a way in?!”
There is still a sense of tranquility,
“We’ll be dead if they get in!!!”
Compared to the chaos in the outside world…
“We’ll find death either way.”
He finally musters the will to write,
“What is this...”
A sentence albeit, but that’s how it always starts…
“How is this supposed to help?!”
It may not mean anything now,
“Oh, this is meaningless!”
But surely it will lead to something….
“It has to start somewhere.”
Yet his hand trembles at forming the next line.
“Yes! The start of another disappointing effort!”
He put his head in his hands.
“What are you doing?!”
He wonders why it’s so hard to write.
“You can’t give up now.”
He remembers it being more effortless than this.
“Oh, this is pointless!”
He remembers it being more fun than this.
“You can’t force these things…”
Frustration begins to manifest in the barrens of his mind.
“If he doesn’t force it, it’ll never come to life.”
The ashes pile up to his ankles,
“Oh no, this is bad…”
The banging on the door thumps louder.
“They’re finding a way in!”
The multitude of arms stretches closer from the walls,
“Don’t let them touch you…”
The whispers won’t stop screaming.
“Heed our call!”
How does one overcome these disparities of despair…?
“You can get through this.”
Hope… there is hope, isn’t there?
“Bah! Wishful thinking!”
He hears a voice long forgotten in the realms of reality.
“Are you sure it’s not just a dream…?”
He narrows in to the singularity amidst the screams.
“Just another occlusion trying to get your attention!”
It’s her… it has to be…
“She’s dead!”
The feeling projected… this is… yes... compassion.
“There is hope after all, isn’t there?”
He breathed in his deepest breath,
“The path is right in front of you.”
He tries his best to convince himself to get out,
“Please no… They’re right there...”
He tries his best to overcome the deprivation before him.
“No! You’ll only suffer even more!”
He realizes he’ll only suffocate further through this isolation.
“You’ll suffocate even more if you leave...”
He tries to convince himself that there’s hope behind that door.
“Only despair awaits you there!”
He musters the will to get up.
“What are you doing?!”
He drags his feet across the ashes on the floor,
“There is no salvation waiting for you!”
He ignores the arms reaching out to him,
“Or maybe, there is hope... even if just a tinge.”
The closer he gets, the louder the banging on the door.
“Only damnation awaits you behind that door!”
He finds the will to turn the knob.
“What have you done…?”
End credits ending:
The first thing he sees,
Amidst the gentle breeze,
And the chirping of birds,
Is a rather familiar face,
Who merely says,
“Hey, want to have lunch?”
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