Insomnia II

He glanced at the last molecule of smoke which had risen from his cigarette. He knocks the ash of a lot and stares at the cinder hoping it will reflect in his eyes. He wants fire in his eyes. Desire that consumes. Stumps the cigarette. Looks at her and sees nothing. This nothing is everything he isn`t and everything he desires. But still it is nothing and he precisely knows this. And lets the conversation slowly pass away into eternal silences of a few seconds. Lights another cigarette. Stares at the cinder. Looks at her. His reminiscent side is long lost and he is fresh out of feelings. He froze from the inside out. And nothing is haunting him. I beg your pardon, the nothing is haunting him. That is exactly why he swore not to have feelings. Not to love.

This awkward meeting never happened in reality. It is a part of his subconscience, a play in his head. An eternally reoccuring play. Infinitely sad and true. Thus he lights yet another cigarette alone as he has always been. Looks at the mirror. Goes out for a walk hoping to get this play out of his head. By far the worst idea he has ever had. It would have been better to stay at home mate. Out there in the buzzing world you will feel even greater solitude and you will know not who to blame. Why is it that you know with every fiber of your being that it ought to be someone out there to touch your soul? To break the ice. And still you can`t find that person. You just constantly dress up people and situations for a grand lie, an endless fancy-dress party, in which they come and feel what you feel within the intimacy of your own being. Lies, lies, lies.

Outside. No buzz, but a dead city. He avoided the crowds. He avoided any possible human contact. Then why, for the love of god, did you leave the safe heaven of your home, your protective shell? Sits on the riverbank. Lights yet another cigarette. Looks at his reflection in the water. The discontinuous image fascinates him. He always considered that his pulsating reflection in the window of the passing tram or bus is nothing else but his image from the perspective of others. They care, stop caring than they care again. But this reflection...ohh this is different. This is what he longs for. And this is what he thinks about while staring at the cinder. He longs for someone to care. At any given moment. Someone. Someone...

Temporal insanity. A passing moment of eternal value in which the human is in contact with the divine. This moment passed. Passed long ago. When he had that last kiss.

Inside. The day has passed. He goes to bed. Sleeps. And in his dreams he is staring at a mirror and sees fire in his eyes. And in his dreams he has quit smoking.