to be without

I loathe what idleness brings...empty nights, long dragging days, mornings of self realization and all of this knowing that Im not alone but I can't help anyone or myself. That gnawing emptiness that once satisfied itself in the pit of my stomach now confidently nibbles upon the unpatroned intimations of my heart and the rationality in my mind. Its become quite obvious that Im alone and increasingly apparent that Im lonely. But what kind of companionship is it that I seek? I've friends who are available to me whenever the summer day beckons, I have company who will readily engage upon conversations of spite or of those better left for loose tongued nights, even those personalities which are greeted with simple acknowledgment warmly welcome a gathering of familiar faces. Perhaps I'm longing for the attention of another who would place all other forms of companionship at bay for a few moments with me. Is it the prospect of a honest smile that only humbles itself in presence of the owner's joy, or for eyes that never lose their means even while observing the momentous world that enthralls me? At this moment, my desire attends to a companion who would share with me comfort and intrigue despite the idleness that comes and goes. I ask too much in this place and in this time but I would take care to reciprocate this attention.

"cold"

Its damn cold. Its a dark and cool night but its damn cold. I find myself, once again, falling victim to the biting draft that invites itself through the window. Music entertains itself in the background, teasing and responding with brash beats and elusive rhythms. I watch his eyes staring vacantly through the steel foundations of the building, every so often he lets himself ease into reality, his eyes become alight with sharpened intellect and he begins to see. He turns his attention to the resonating lamp watching it flicker and dim. I trace his eyes while they continue slowly upward past the smoldered glass, through the misty line of smoke and into my echoing gaze. I look away for fear that I've been caught. As still as I thought I was, I couldn't hide my intrigue. Moments later, Im back in the empty room filled with silhouettes of branded time, bodies stir and unclaimed faces are distorted in the orange glow. Again I could feel the cold breathing souless kisses on my skin and I am defeated and alone. I notice everything; guilty victories of advancing fingers are convicted with a glance. I hear it all; the shallow breathing and uneasy mumbling, the relentless whisper and telling sigh, the silence of suppressed emotion and desire. But I feel nothing. The room is unaffected by my presence, even those expressions that I do recall respond with blank facades. I turn back to the face but its now a figure in a dark corner of the room. The night is cold and only gets colder as another draft settles in.