451 She's Gone

Empty... Empty, dull and empty
She stares into those parlor walls
Looking for fulfillment, looking for love
These people, images are her 'friends' her 'family'
Peering in at it with a blank expression

Dull... Dull, meaningless and dull
She's meaningless, even to him
He wants to feel, wants this to be real... to be anything

Happy?... Are you happy? Are you joyful?
He asks, knowing she'll lie, he still asks
"If i had a fourth parlor wall, I think i'd be happy". Disgust!
"But I'm content" Disgust followed by more disgust.

Pill bottle... Pill cap, no pills, where are the pills?
'She sits there, and i don't know she's alive'

Breathing... Breathing, not even a small leaf,
A black feather, a single fiber of hair.
The dying of an unknown, a street face, a news paper image
Tomorrow there would be her face, with ten others

Cry... Cry, and he did not begin to cry because she was dead,
But because he was not sad she was dead.

"I don't know anything anymore"
He said, and let the sleep lozenge dissolve on his tongue.
Darkness. He was not happy.

*this poem is inspired from the book Fahrenheit 451*