Broken Dreams Blvd.

The road isn't clear. The time is unknown. The space of emptiness I feel has taken not only a place in my heart, but the buildings seem to have absorbed the crushed, burnt, deformed feelings pulsing from what's left of my most vital organ. I walk alone. Now I walk alone. How can I survive when the sun itself has dimmed its sweet warmth? When the flowers and trees don't stand tall on their stems. When the mountains themselves, those peaks of vegetation in the distance, have lost their previous majesty? Dust clouds my vision consistently, a cold gust of wind whispering through the empty sideroads, throwing the reminder that I walk alone full blown into my face. I walk alone. I am alone. Lights, once blinding and powerful, have blurred into obscurity with the salty residue left in front of my eyes. Those traitorous tearstains. And I myself, thinking there is not a possible place to sink, my mind continues to drop, still lower. Gradually deflating from its lack of proper use. Voices. I look up, expecting to find a face to match the familiar tone. Seeing empty space, I realize that I do, indeed, walk alone. Alone. The mists gather in their swirling, menacing tendrils of youthful imagination, the clouds gather into blackened cotton and thunder claps. Lightning strikes. The world brilliantly lit for a millisecond, again draws deeper into itself, leaving me to walk alone in the bitter cold.