Extreme Ways, Poem/Short Story #2

I sit here

 Staring out the window

Of this cluttered-mess of a room

In the corner at a empty table

Everyone is around me

But not with me

I barely touch the food on my tray

I don't even look down at it

Just you

Always you

You're outside

Hanging out with your friends

Your Greaser buddies

You sit at the center of this madness

The people around you are in an animated conversation

Laughing

Smiling

Yet you seem not to pay the slightest bit of attention to them

You're looking out into nothing

Nothing at all

I've noticed you've been doing that lately

And by "Lately" I mean after you're friends death

You're slipping

Away from your family

Away from your sanity

Away from this big-bad world

Disappearing into nothingness

Into Darkness

A place, which seems less heck-tic

Less weird

Just normal

I know what I'm saying

Thinking

Because I've gone though it

I've slipped

And disappeared

I'm not here

Even as I watch your lonely, indolent eyes

Almost losing that spark in them, I have seen so many times before

I'm not here

Gone

Away

I feel…

Dead

You shouldn't suffer this way

I wouldn't want you too

It's not the greatest state of being

But even I see you're…

Disappearing as well

Not physically

Emotionally

Maybe psychotically

I'm the only one who knows that you're….

Fading too

Dying like I have

And you keep thinking

"No one cares"

Since they're too busy living their own lives

Too busy minding their own problems

What they don't realize is

That you're getting to the end of your rope

And your worried no one will be at the end when you get there

Don't worry

I'll be there

I'll always be there

the street bears no relief
when everybody's fighting
the street bears no relief
with light so hot and binding

I run the stairs away
and walk into the nighttime
the sadness flows like water
and washes down the heartache
and washes down the heartache

my heart is full
my heart is wide
the saddest song to play
on the strings of my heart

the heat is on its own
the roof seems so inviting
a vantage point is gained
to watch the children fighting

so lead me to the harbour
and float me on the waves
sink me in the ocean
to sleep in a sailor's grave
to sleep in a sailor's grave

                                          -Moby "Harbour"