I'm through being a sketch.

I hang a lot around bars and pubs. I always sit at the counter alone for five tings: smoke, drink, reading, drawing, and writing. And most of times this is what I come up with.

I fell never to be able to get up again. Instead I dug up a hole to go deeper and deeper, after a while I found a cave. A cave filled with beautiful crystals, they reflected my memories, all but nostalgia and nothing to hold on to. I wandered those caves for a long time, with every step I felt smaller, lonelier, lost. I gazed those crystals, those reflections for my past, for days, without blinking, without tinking, then... my eyes filed with rain. It burned. Those acid tears started to melt the crystals, slowly one after one there where no more. The caves where empty now, dark and coloured with sorrow only a light was left, the one I came from. I was afraid, afraid that nothing was there for me out there, in that world of happy looking people. Even so. I crawled out of that hole, just to find what I'm still searching for. I still need to learn to live, I'm yet to be born myself as true. I'm through being a sketch.

"Words from the lonely man holding the empty vodka bottle."

Author's Note

I'm not very good in English language and also dyslexic.

Reviews

[costa siwale]

this is a wonderful piece. sorrowful but hopeful at the end.

[Charlotta Anna Adelina ..]

I really enjoy your imagery. It would be nice if it was longer but otherwise I think you got your message across well. Enjoyed this