Panorama

intro-vert

It would be nice to lie on the heart-shaped rug in front of the fire. The crackle of the wood would mimic the slow increase beat of her heart. We wouldn't be so far. We wouldn't be so doubtful.

Instead, we sit. For a moment, silence is the only thing that accompanies us. A welcomed guest.

I am scared, I realized. I wished for the flames to engulf my resembling face, my dull eyes, lanky hair...

My empty soul and corrosive words that will eat her when I say them.

I regret ever meeting her.

The flames act as my persuasion: everything must crash and burn.

There would be no turning back now once I told her. It would be nice to end it slow and contempt as I once held her - it would force her to understand. It's impossible, for me, to convey my life's sensations of my nebulous existence. No matter truth or lie it's meaning is nothing. I defy the laws of physics and go beyond the absolute threshold of the human senses. I am nothing. She desperately needs help to understand this. These unwelcomed thoughts, these phantoms: they chase me in all my hours. It's a constant empty void that converges consciousness until there is no more. She can't tell me otherwise. She exerts only salubrious notions, a hierarchy that I don't belong to. I'm stuck in the muck of the catastrophe that I put upon myself. Sure, I wasn't born into the light of the world, but I only made my dim sheer cloud my perspective even more, more into a indistinct and lurid one. Worthless they all said. Worthless I became.

Insignificant in all natures.

Extinct to all creatures

Dead to all pleasures

Nonexistent in the galaxies of

everything greater

There is no else way to say it.

"I am not good enough" I tell her.

I leave my imprint of my body on the rug. Four steps taken. Three sniffs from her. Two seconds of doubt. One click from the door.