NEEDLEWRITER

Sometimes at night

That night was the concluding one. No escape – isn’t it so? I got sealed in the tomb(ing) idea what I was before the sudden conclusion. I, the telephone, a mobile one, a connection through bulbs and sockets – an small signal of still streaming life, but unfortunately used. And I asked myself for what purposes? No answer from those who expected more of it and for themselves and their godforsaken sofisticating and evolutionary statements. The sudden realisation, and those who came after it did my soul to nough. Why? – I cried. It reduced itself to a point. Of no return? I doubted it. Something in the depths started to wave itself up. I devoid of thought and emotions and feelings set myself to wait. Wait, wait, wait – hours passed uncosciously bleeding and shimmering the charge out. What was I, subconsciously waiting, while my conscious was stoned and my body deserted in the box of my room? A deity unknown (god) or simply a small dream or anything similar to appear? Something to strike me – my numbness of it all – to shock me back to life? Or simply to move across to the „other side” – to leave without force, to shut down? What was I in for in this interconnectedness of realities – whether physical or mental ? Freedom is an easy word for it – maybe after all I want prison for them all.