In A Room Full of Emptiness

-In A Room Full of Emptiness-
by
Keaton Foster

“A prison for the mind, body, and soul.”

Four by four, square, there is nothing there, nothing more. In a room full of emptiness, there are no decorations, nor adornments. There is nothing to be owned and nothing to be had. Naked and bare, raw and accused, it is a place of my youth. The sanctuary of my doom.

Monsters hide in the darkest corners, all things of truth are illusions. There are no weapons, no way to defend myself. There are no places to hide, no recesses in which to reside. Headlong, I must face all that is there. All that time and again has come for me. All that was meant, all that was lent, all that was handed over by the truest forms of darkness.

In such a room remains nothing in every possible way. I can never return because truthfully, I’ve never left. It is my forever prison. A cage for me to embrace. A place where everything is a waste. A place where I belong even if I’m not there. Even if I am a lifetime away from its walls and from its methods of confinement. A place that I was born into, became enslaved by, and must serve no matter how far I flee. A place more home than any other I have ever known.

I was born into this world, forced into such a life. I had no choice, at least none that I knew of. I would have bartered an escape to the nothingness encased, but I know that such nothingness already has all that it wishes of me. I belong to it, just as much as it belongs to me. We are as one within the madness of our time and predicament. We are linked in ways that cannot be separated.

In a room full of emptiness, an infernal confinement of context, these words seep through the walls. These ideals creak through the cracks. Meaning for a person like me is not the same as meaning for all others. Everything is different, two worlds, one confinement, easily collide. Shattering all perception, laying waste to expectations. As far as I go, as far as I run, the closer it all seems.

In a room full of emptiness is where I belong, where I am home, even if “home” is what it is least of all.


In A Room Full Of Emptiness
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015.