Here it is, the void. The plain white glow of the empty screen. No need to refresh, it's always going to be blank. Perfectly calm, perfectly strong. Perfectly full of nothing and yet the words continue to flow. Pointless words. A life of words. All in life is words, just now. A constant ebb and flow, or a raging torrent of words, with a mouth open to speak them, but only deafening, sickening silence voicing them. That gut-wrenching silence, no noise, not even distant spectre echoes. Not one single solitary sound. Not that it would matter, in this cacophony of a million voices all screaming in unheard distress. They want to be heard, every single last fucking one of them. They want their time, their place. Well fuck them. Fuck them all, and their struggles, their plights. Sickening sympathy for those who scream the loudest. Come get it here. It's only just words after all. Those words. All those words, and none of them. Only some of them matter, the rest are thrown away like unwanted baby bones. Unloved, not nurtured, destroyed meanings, desecrated lines, unheard implications. I will cherish those words. Every single last fucking one of them.
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