(not) just another poem

Came across this one recently
Could read... enjoy... relate... connect...
Read on...

Alone

He lies alone.
The quite is all to deafening. Its all there is.
To one side of him the phone. Talk.
To the other. The computer, chat.
Neither is comforting.

"It doesn't matter" he thinks.
Nothing matters.
Nothing ever will.

Near him, all around him, is the faint scent of despair.
He looks for something to hold onto.
There’s Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing except the silence, the quite.

"I should get up." he thinks.
"What’s the point?" is what follows.
His hands tremble.
He wants to cry, but he can't.
Its almost as if he's immune to the situation.

"Stiff upper lip," He thinks "Stiff upper lip"
It doesn't help
Nothing seems to help.

He searches for something more to hold onto. Anything.
All he finds are his thoughts.
They're no help.
All they seem to do is betray him.
As if someone has opened the floodgates,
Millions of Gallons of thoughts come rushing into his mind.
He struggles to stay afloat.
He looks for his planking, something to help him stay afloat.

Dreams.
He finds dreams, and holds on to them.
He won't let go. He won't ever let go.

He lies alone.
The quite is all to deafening. Its all there is.
To one side of him the phone. Talk.
To the other. The computer, chat.
Neither is comforting…

– by Greg Bealer