The Empty Chair

The melancholy
Of an empty chair
In a corner of my
Thoughts
Strikes each dawn
When i lay still
Staring from the
Dark into
Nothingness.
How cold can
The world get
While lights outside
Dance and music
Play in rhythm
With life.
Just how many
Souls at this instant
Wither
In loneliness
In a dark room
Just staring
at an empty
Chair
They can't even dare sit?
The chair in my thoughts
I will keep empty
If only to console a heart
That it's not alone
In its solitude.

Waiting

WAITING

in bed
the lights turned low,
i gaze at the ceiling
and in the cracks
i see moons shining
and stars dancing
from universes away.
i count the minutes
in the length of each
tiny light's twinkling
as they're consumed
by nothingness
only to peep out before
i could gasp another breath.
i entertain myself with
the galleons of clouds
passing by
until they all sail away
into the window,
into the light.
the door creaks open
and my waiting ends.

Sidewalk Thoughts

SIDEWALK THOUGHTS

i sit on a sidewalk
my life in stationary
while thoughts run
round and round
in a race
i could only wish the road
will run out.
i could finally hear
silence.
the littlest gust of wind
creates a sound as i
let out a breath of smoke.
18 cars past,
i wished they had dragged
these thoughts to where
i do not know of
until they all dissipate
until i couldn't care less
until all i could remember
was counting cars and
a vague memory
etched on paper
that i painfully erased.

The Building

THE BUILDING

The office
Standing tall
Teeming of faces
I cant all recall.
Ive always thot
That skyscrapers
Are made of concrete
But this firmament that
Sticks over the skyline
Are made of walls
That are just slightly thicker
And a just a little bit wider
Than that of the faces
That occupy its spaces.
It's cappillaries start moving
And then pause.
The Elevator stops
On mid-floors - suddenly our
Imagined Corporate-movie lives
Flop and someone just yells
"Holy Crap Im trapped! "
Back to reality.
Passengers awaken.
This lift might just be
Metal coffins transporting
Live people to hell.
Funny but It hurts when
At times one has to
kneel to the devil
To make a living
and then thank God
for the job
That provides each weekend
A set of beer at a club.
Twelve floors up
Where birds outside fly
And occasionally peep
On glass windows
chirping mutely
And choking of polluted
Air rising from below.
From the outside
The birds mummed of
The events inside -
The subtle insults
And sarcasm that bite.
The smiles to a computer screen
That doesnt smile back.
The laughs to a voice
That comes out from the wires
Stemming out from
Across oceans
where birds outside
Would not attempt to try.
The cursing hurled
Are nauseating.
The bodies walking
And running in squares
and circles
Back and forth,
Its maddening.
The weight of the problems
Of a foreign country
Resting on the shoulder
of this building