Who is that? That individual, he's just staring at me. No matter the direction I twist or turn his hollow gaze persistently follows me. I almost feel trapped in his gaze. A pale fainted man, radiating with desperation, filled with regret and remorse for his every action, reads like an open book. I can smell him from here, the scent seemed all so familiar, but left no room for sympathy. The stench of depression just lingering within his presence.
He continues to stand there, as if petrified, yet staring back at me, he notices I'm on to him, the mystery is fading with each second that passes, but yet his gaze doesn't budge. still staring at me, distilling a sense of disgust into my very being, as if he's trying to diagnose me, read me, as I him.
I notice movement, I see his tongue scrape against his aching deteriorating lips, as if trying to get a taste of who I am, without any regard of the insanity it develops with each scrape of his tongue. His eyes, dark, but void, empty as if made of some sort of abyss, just pure darkness leading to what seems to be an area absent of a soul.
Maybe he stands there, staring back at me, feeling as if each trace of his blacken tongue gives him the excuse. The excuse, to judge me. I can see his tongue register the pain, the agony that follows with each drawn out swipe of his dried out tongue. One can only guess, assume that it was due to his years filled with the absent promises and cold lies. I can almost see the agony persistently coating the back of his throat. Even with this theory, this assumption I didn't care to ask...
The pain defines this individual, the empty man just wallowing in his state of discontent, darkened eyes and shivering body. his head now tilted to the side, as if about to give up, the desperation has finally found its conclusion, he sees that there is nothing left to pursue.
I stand there in return, in this state of stupor, mind flowing, just filled with curiosity at this point. Questions started to develop. What could cause a man to fall so far, to look this way, to even in a strangers eyes have a story read so easily, to be judged so innocently and yet be so spot on. I mean one couldn't be far off from the truth. What drove this empty man to his edge, to his breaking point?
The old sagged corpse of a man, tainted with the left over residue from his former acts, each one darker than the next, each characterizing, defining and labeling his very essence. I stand there watching as the black residue from his mouth drips from his chapped flaking lips. he meshes his tongue around trying to absorb any of the liquid no matter the bitter taste of regret, and the pain it cause.
At first I was clear in my purpose, and judgement. I didn't care for this individual, he was rude for staring in his judgmental stance, I mean this man was vile and to judge me? Just having him near my presence distilled such an uneasy feeling into my heart. I knew at first look i didn't respect the fool. How could i respect someone on the verge of giving up? he just stood there letting himself be fooled by what life brought his way, I'm sure he refused to accept the blame for his acts as well. He was now defined as pathetic in my eyes. His darkened shallow eyes sent a message so unsettling, so toxic I felt as if I had to vomit. My body had tremors sent up and down my body from this empty man. Insulted by this poor excuse of the once where i had enough.
So with content of having enough of this tortured individual and pointless judgmental stand off, I've declared myself finished and took one last and final gaze at this pathetic man, for everything he defines was his doing, his fault and his regret to bare, not mine. So for closure I sent a parting gift, a crooked sarcastic grin that would give us both closure. The experience was odd, for I noticed something with that final grin, he mimicked me, he copied mine, the audacity this fool had.
An odd feeling swelled up inside me. It wasn't anger like it should've been, it was a sense of realization if you would. I started to recognize this man, or at least a part of him. He noticed my understanding. His hand now raised, pointed out toward me, decaying as it were. The finger nails where as black as his eyes, skin dried and wrinkled, colored the same pasty grey as his face. I step back with a sense of fear forced down my spine. Now in a defensive posture, ready for anything or so one thought.
Then my mind started to fail me, it stated to choose sides, and chose him. what if he wasn't trying to judge me, but to warn me, to make me understand, to tell me something, just lacked the words required to do so? What if this was a message?
His eyes penetrate my flesh, looking deeper into my soul, as if trying to remember something, as if he knew me. There it was, the tingle that shot down my back like a deer sprinting across an empty road in the middle of the night, with nothing more than the moon and the radio to keep you company. falling in an out of exhaustion, and at the last minute swerving out of the way. The hairs on the back of my neck started to rise.
The shiver of realization that disrupted my posture was my wake up call, so strong, so potent, alone could wake the dead jagged remains of the once were. I stood there in shock, it was in that moment, I realized the empty man I was unlucky enough to share this moment with, set my eyes upon, wasn't a ghost or apparition, or some wandering idiot I passed by. I feel one would be considered lucky if that were the case, it was something so much more frightening, so much more real. As a bead of sweat traces down my flesh, my lips grasp the word "you". It was... it was my reflection. the mirror standing before me, in the corridor of the once were.
Is this the man i'm going to be, or the man i once was, but left behind and forgotten...
Author Notes: Just venting...