Void behind

 I speak. I am not heard.

My best shout is a whisper, within my head.

I cry out. I cry in. The void stands motionless.

It stares into me. Darkness fills my sight.

I run. I cannot move.

I flee, but nowhere beckons.

Sludge surrounds me. Quicksand slows my heart.

I cannot speak. I cannot breathe. Not in, nor out.

Riches, knowledge, sacrifice, work.

Youth. Health. Time. Offered away in a blink.

But I speak. I am not heard.

Sludge surrounds me. Quicksand slows my heart.

Failure beckons from behind.

I run. I speak. I sacrifice all I am.

I speak. I am not heard. Not yet. Never yet.

I speak. I run. I sacrifice all I am.

Behind me, darkness beckons.

I still speak. I still run. I still sacrifice all I am.

Behind me, darkness beckons.

Void behind - Prose by Marc Evan Aupiais

Unsaid

Few words. Fewer breaths. Cloudy skies, chilly bread.

A sun that does not warm the inside of my head.

Stars, blotted out by street lights, a moon hidden in daytime.

A buzz in my chest. A heart of lead. For cold water veins.

Fuelling the unseen shadow of my blood. Pump. Pump. I hear it in my skull.

Pump. Pump. Yet, I hardly move.

My chest does not desire to draw in breath. 

Few words. Fewer breaths.

A sun that does not warm the inside of my head.

Unsaid.

Prose by Marc Evan Aupiais