Whispers in pitch black,
painted tainted words spoken softly
in absolute invisibility.
I disappeared, you disappeared
words and sentences conveyed coherently
all disappeared into a cloud.
A cloud built on the feeling of nothingness
and the slow crawl
of long lost data trapped in the recesses and corners
showing themselves in a reunion comeback tour.
The past rings hollow, the present a vacuum
the future every moment to the next.
The taunting rhythm of the seconds hand
on the white face of the clock,
softly howling into the night
tick-tock tick-tock.
Sharp breaths shortening by the moment
constriction, restriction, delirium.
Whispers once again in the pitch black
but once you try to whisper back
a bloodcurdling cry leaves your lips.
And then all is silence.


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