I am nothing. A nobody who means very little in the grand scheme of things. And I want to walk away from schemes. From the hurtful, needful things. Into the quiet. Away ... into beauty. To a place where I am really free.

I want--something. But what I want does not matter; especially since I have no idea what it really is. My mind is a jumble of incoherency. A jumble of thoughts that go nowhere, with no meaning or substance. Such is this emptiness and despair. I cannot shake it. It's like a horrible monkey digging nasty claws into my flesh. A monkey with gnashing teeth that rip apart my very soul. I struggle ferociously for my right to live. My right to serenity. But I am losing the battle. The seige has gone on too long, and I am tired. My enemies know me well. And I them.

I want a carpet of bluebells to cushion me as I fall. I want ... no, I need, a whippoorwill to sing me a lullaby, so my mind will calm and rest. I need to be left alone. I'm a nobody though, and it does not matter what I need.

Fighting the monkey only draws blood. And more monkeys come to help shred what is left of me. They are a gang. Bold, they kill me in my sleep. They kill my soul with shrieking glee. And I am dying as per their wishes. Slowly, painfully ... I sink into the moist blooms, but there is no respite, even there.

The tiny, gnawing things take over where the monkeys have left off. And my bones gleam in the dark gold setting sun.