Farther away, where the cars
are all painted dull black,
and the
leaves on the ground
have
already died,
that is where the
walls are being built.

Strong walls. Walls of
impregnable fortitude.
Walls that will
never be
overcome.

Behind them, that
is where I shall be.
Hidden.
Forgotten.
Put aside to live
with all the
other people
behind these stones.

We will be quiet here.
Dwelling thoughts lost
in managing
individual funeral pyres.
Outside these fortified rocks
will be the footsteps
of people who do
not care to see
anything beyond
what they feel is
marvellously important.
Pecking fingers on their
cell phones
in their peculiar, solitary
way of being a
"community".

We might hear them
from time to time,
distant sounds
that penetrate the
rock fed monster
we have built to
surround our
last moments.

Water falls in a
rainfall of passion.
Cups hold liquids
that are never drunk.
We share the same
determined falling,
ending up the same
kind of dead.

Goodbye people
outside our walls.
Thank you for
peering at us
once in awhile.
And now the Biblical gates
are opening.
Now the walls around
us are shattered.
Leaving here, we
become the pictures
on an internet page;
where people will
write R.I.P. in
the comments.
A like button
will be pressed,
as they move on
to the next entry.

Conversations over.
Memories diffused.

Stones from the wall
fashioned into tombstones.
Names etched on them,
and some plastic flower arrangements
all that remains.

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