Where doe the heart go when it no longer beats for the ideal that it once had? Where do we go when we are no longer wishing to be where we want to be? We are just moving zombies roaming the lone Earth with other zombies trying to get somewhere but never can.

Sitting here in this desolate aerospace of waiting, I sit and ponder the idea of never being able to love the love that I thought I was able to. I sit here and ponder what might have been between us? What might have been? What might have been?

I sit and sit and sit as people pass me by and I never look up to see or ever notice them. They are just the walking zombies no different than me. They experienced everything that I have ever experienced and so much more.

What might have been between us?

The flower blooms to reveal the true beauty but soon it dies without the proper nutrition that it needs. I am not a botanist nor a gardener. I am just a lone wanderer that came across this flower and was entraced by its mock beauty. I was blinded by its exterior beauty.

I went to it, sniffed its sweet aroma only to be poisoned by its scent. I fell trap to her sweet disguise. I fell trap by her amazing beauty that I fail to realize that I can never take care of her. I am not a botanist nor a gardener. I am just a lone wanderer.

I came to it not knowing what it is that I need to do to take care of it. I watered it, I fed it. I gave it all the nutrients that I thought that it needed and nothing more.

The flower is a strange being. It needs more than what I can provide. It needs much more than what I have. But I was too far gone, too far entranced by it’s beauty to realize that I can never keep it alive.

What else can it possibly need? Fun, entertainment, affection that I can no longer provide? I gave it much love, much heart and warmth. For a time, this dear flower did blossom for me. It blossomed and showed it’s beauty, but again, I was too blinded to see the true color is only black.

The thorns prick me and prick me. I bleed and bleed. My heart is dry. It bleeds no more as no more tears fall from my eyes.

All that burns in my veins is angry air, bitter air, jaded air.

The flower dies and leaves no seeds. There is nothing left for me to take. The flower, the seeds bloom somewhere else. To have someone else find it. Maybe he can take care of it better than I can. Maybe he is invincible to its sweet poison.

I know I was fool to fall for a flower. The scent made me weak. The sweet touch and pefume that it emits made me gaga for nothing else.

I knew I was getting in way over my head. I am no botanist. I am no gardener. I cannot take care of it. It will just die in my hands. It will die in my care.

So it did. It left me with nothing but bitter sweet memories as I pull out from her poison. Withdrawal was a bitch, but I’m through, I’m done. No longer under its control. No more.

It leaves me with nothing left to do but to wander on like before; the listless wanderlust zombie of yore; putting one foot forward and dragging the other until I fall down and never to get up or I reach my destination. Whichever comes first.

* * *

Slow and sure. Slow and sure. I get back to the daily grind of writing. I get back to the daily rambling of the nonsense of a senseless man of nothing.

Words flow and flow to the ether of space only to leave nothing words and meaningless poems about nothing in particular.

Waiting and sitting for my time to fly off into the world and be the bird in the sky that I’ve always wanted to be. Flying north for the winter that is upon me. Never south as that’s where everyone else goes. I go where no one goes.

I am the headless wanderer that goes wherever his feet take him. They go left so I go left. They go right so I go right. Right left right left left right right right, pretty soon I’m back to where I started from. Never leaving where I always wanted to leave.

From the ether I came to the ether I go. Gathered from the dust of the world did I come from and back to the worms and the bugs I will go.

Insect food is what we will always be, insect food is what I strive to be. Nothing but giving back to the Earth that provided for me.

Blinded by the mist that slowly comes my way. I’m lost in the silvery gray wetness. It suffocates me. I am so in it that I cannot see what it is that I am doing. Lost and lost, no equilibrium to keep me straight.

There is no more guiding star to take me where I need to go. No beacon of light to guide my way. I follow on and on like before, with only my gut insticts and my senses….