Matt’s Apartment


Connecting the tiny chip to his nauseating brain, he vanished into sleep. He didn’t mean to disappear.
Taking leave of the world,
he connected the tiny chip to his head. It isn’t that he had no will to live.

While I was fixing my sight upon his tear, it had neither joyfulness nor sadness from his eyes
staring into the air. I watched it as the coolant,
or a matter of degree, it salinated solution in his body.

His tears were being cold, and I sent farewell to the days I had missed
the fragrance of human on him, and the window that irritated my eyes
stimulated my emptiness as the big and small bubbles of his scattered tears
evaporated into the air. What was my emptiness made up of?

His little chance of survivability. My lack of ability to take out the chip from him. My identity
bordered on ignorance. His apartment
where no one reached out. His voice of closed eyes. The light extinguished the darkness.

To whom should I sail my following way? Should I follow the shadowy grief after all those
resolute voices?
If so, I should make some incredible voice to veil my sorrow and depression. In all his
daydreams, selfishness prevented me from soaking into that dried
and warped creature.

The emotion that cut out that moment vanished, and
the ignorance was amplified.

The fright impulse. And the memory of that stubborn man.
  His high-pitched voice. My hatred toward that unfavourable man.
About his values, linked in his brain.
	     Certain noise	in a silent room.
		The scattered emotion as dust and	  the leftover of that human.

Suicide in this age,  is like another murder.
		 I dedicated my value,	reborn afresh,
		  	     and reversed the ceaseless voice.
 
While he was absent in Matt’s apartment,	Matt raised himself.
All the moments were completed by the sole last motion and extinct.
For leaving the last sense of loss, for much of the day,
    he had spread his numerous tumults.
    The hatred of myself who couldn’t yearn for his noise that wouldn’t be
    surrounded in my ear, collapsed with the following hatred that I had tolerated 
    the discomfort about him in the past
    and the following hatred that I couldn’t evoke any sorrow for him.

    Thinking about lots of salinity left in his body,
    I wished that his tear was never ended.
    And,  I had nothing to feel.

   Noise existed with noises. 
 Silence existed with silences.

	 Without any relation,	in the fading memory of ‘Matt,’
	 I left his nasty apartment,	where finding peace without him.

Now he existed between death and life.
I left as the sole witness who no one would call to mind.