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After the Crisis (Nothing)

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After the crisis,

comes the void.

And my mind slows down.


Becomes void.


I become nothing.


Other people,

They tell me they know.

They understand.


I don't think they know.


The other people,

they usually describe it as a storm

with dark black and gray colours 

to fill the lines of their mood.



To me,

that says anger.

A unique anger, sure.

The kind that makes your brain buzz with hate

The kind that makes your blood run fast and cold


Steady as white rapids. 


I am still.






I feel nothing.


And I can't hear him anymore.

all my senses have been numbed


I wish I did feel the storms and the rivers.

Because I would shout.

And he would shout.

Until we were both screaming.


Our souls in audio,

buzzing together.

A separate sound to drown out the storm.


But I can't hear him.


I watch as he faces me

His lips moving up and down

His tongue tapping against his teeth

Pink and white and red

I see it.

I see him.

But I can't hear him.


I watch as his arms wrap around me in bed

His fingers intertwining with my own

His mouth pressing against my bare shoulder

White and white and pink and red on blue bed sheets

I see him.

But I can't feel him.


We kiss


He holds me


But I feel nothing.


I am void.