..blood

I sit in the room in a cold, steel chair, thinking through intricate complexity within the depths of my brain. I think and then think about thinking, plunging me, fully submerged into the mess of all of it. The steel is cool against my bones and marrow, chilling me to the core of my being. My eyes turn from the neurons inside my brain and scan the landscape of the room that I find myself in, noticing that it is washed apathetically in the greyness of an emotionless existence. The bare floor provides no warmth and my eyes peel back the layers of this reality to find nothing desirable underneath it. As my eyes probe the space, I see it out of the corner of my eye and pretend like it's not there. After turning away, my heart looks for it in the greyness, not finding it, I admit failure, and my eyes return to the empty space on the wall, tensely embracing the deafening solitude. After a few moments it flickers and I summon up the courage to turn and take a glance. In the fframe of the door window, I see a backlit man standing with the brightness of all light fighting to take him over. His body shifts as our eyes fall in line and his ears raise with an exuberant smile. After the joy of the moment has fully matured, his hand rises from his side, up to the door and faintly knocks on the cold steel. I sit and watch, wondering exactly what he is doing. Doesn't he have other doors to knock on right now? But due to my lack of movement generated from the knock he starts to pound harder. I don't know exactly what to do with myself and I feel as though he was attempting to invade my greyness. But the pound, pound, pound grows in my ears, pulsing the hammer, anvil, and stirrups, leaving me with the only option of closing my eyes, hoping the noise will disappear and take the light along with it. But the sounds don't go away, they get lounder and explode all over the walls of greyness into a bloody mess. And the passionate bleeding of unanswered sound streams down the walls, beginning to spread thinly over the conrete floor. Once the red is consuming the entirety of the room, I start to think that something must be done. The tenseness of action tingles in my feet and the blood red has soaked through my All-Stars making movement madatory. Slapping my knees in resolution, I rise from my chair, and head towards the door. The pounding has all but ceased and the light is now filtered through a veil of redness. I stop in front of the rosey illuminicity and touch the cold steel of the door handle on the cold steel door, summoning the courage to twist the knob, my heart leaps and skips approximately three thousand beats. The intensity of not knowing what is on the otherside breaks my bones and I felt so foolish when all that I saw was an emptiness of light, with no man to be seen. But then a faint whisper to my right catches the corner of my ear and I realize that he is collasped on the ground, laying in a small pool of his own blood. He whispers softly that he was playing the flute for me but he never saw me dance, and then he tried to play a dirge and I sat there, emotionless in my lonely room. And then he pounded and pounded and pounded but movement never entered into my bones and I just sat there, motionless. I don't really know what to say to this man that wanted to be with me enough to kill himself, to take himself the end of his life to simply be in my room with me. So I sit down, once again deep in thought, but of a different kind, where I am not the center but the orbiting mass around this man. Who is he that he would want to know me enough to die for me? Who am I that I ignored him until this point?