the boy
The generations switched when the sun made its way down, the old folk disappeared and cleared the streets for the young. The boy watched them from his room, where he felt secure. He was used to look out of his window when the sky changed. It wasnt the same thing, it wasnt true. Monochrome. He was at home, or was he?
“the echoes in my eyes,
of all they used to see,
burning down the world,
the ashes and debris,
And all that’s left of me,
All have washed away,
non-entity”
Observing without being observed.
The advantage of a sky high flat. He was afraid of eye contact. The colour of his shade shocked his eyes and endless paranoia build a nest in his brain. Silence. The calmness of being alone. Tranquility of the phoenix. Like a fourteen year old. Not a single sign of adolescence. The blue bar went backwards. Everything reversed, again and again. That was his future. None.
I`m afraid of becoming this boy again.