She Smiled Sweetly
I have nothing, I am nothing. Is this death?
A world filled with shadows moving at the rim of my vision; a glimpse from time to time of the others, those that chatter and move to and fro like clockwork dolls. Shadows black and brown, white and grey, drifting in and out, barely visible, felt in the vibrations of the air.
Today, Mick Jagger tells me about how She Smiled Sweetly. He tells his tale about how Her smile chases away the ponderous thoughts that haunt him each day. Her smile is a great beaming lighthouse for him to be guided by; the fog and darkness of whatever chases him, occupies him, can only be swatted away by her swinging Cheshire smile.
Brother Mick! I, too, feel the physical weight of thoughts, and once had the light of Her sun upon my shoulders. When the light went out and the cold Moon rose, the Shadows came to sit at the edge of my eyes. I want to chase them away, but my hands are gnawed too red to light a candle.
Truly, there is nothing in why or when. There’s no use in trying, I’m here. I’m begging again, and again, and again. My hands are out.
I see nothing, I hear nothing. Is this life?