I am blankness and emptiness personified. Everything falls, flows, into the empty recesses of the soul and shapes and wears it away with its continuous current. ‘I talk to god but the sky is empty’. Blue, beautiful melancholy. The overhead lamp casting shadows of disarrayed hair on the page I write upon. I stretch my hand outwards and upwards, and I grasp solitude with a clenched fist.
This is a feeling of emptyness or sadness?
Maybe I'm saying too much and this is only madness.