The sky is on fire
and no one cares. It fades slowly, dragged into darkness
, and all I can do is watch. Around me, the soft flaming of the sun's last cry goes unheard, replaced instead by the dull thumping of a stereo
, if I'm not mistaken. Bleh
. I am tired of seeing these moments wasted on the numb
. Why do I suddenly feel responsible for this deafness? Why do I assume that I must be the one to change things
I sigh, and sink into the horizon like a bitter hermit. I did not mean for it to be like this. This is not my job; to worry, to lament. I will have time for that when I am sixty and own more than one cat, yet I do it now.
As I wander I think of the time I watched a mouse die in front of me. A trap hung around its neck, cheese strewn aside. It was slow and horrible but it needed to be done. The little heart, flaming into its final rhythm, dying to be heard. I wanted to be numb but I couldn't, I couldn't. How can I turn my face when there is such intensity? No, I will not turn my face, and no one will turn it for me.
As the sun reaches the horizon its colours meet each other with a soft hum. I watch until it falls.