Quiet. A low buzzing noise of some electronic curcuit in the background. A single lamp, stage centre. Me lying naked, face down on a bed The circle of light encompassing my face and my hands Grasping a pen Scrawling emotions onto paper With a flat, blank, face. Hiding nothing. No feelings, no laughter Frantically trying to spark something Some hidden energy Buried deep Filling page after page Neading something to release Just writing Maybe it will make sense to someone My audience isn't here now. I hope it will be. But now I write into a vacuum. Knowing I can't heal myself now. Hoping someone can heal me. My audience is gone, but I need them Need them to be whole Need them to see what I have done Who I have become, who I was To reasure me To not leave me on a baren stage Alone Naked with a spot light That watches me scrawl Words onto empty paper.
-TCS