Closing the Shades

Closing the Shades – by Kevin Kraemer

As I stand above the shadow of my own self that is cast by the streetlight above me, I see it growing and growing. But I am not moving. The tips of my toes are dangling into this empty void of nothingness. The bigger my shadow grows, the less I can see of the trees and houses that surround me. The sidewalk is being eaten and the sky is disappearing like a dog licking a dinner plate clean of food. Except this darkness is full of tainted, polluted things. And it is licking clean the world that I live in. The world that I know and call home. The scene is a painting and some disturbed artist is renovating his masterpiece with a fresh coat of black. Every brushstroke is genius as more and more of the colors disappear. Pretty soon I can feel the heels of my feet barely hanging onto the ledge of the sidewalk that is struggling to stay intact. Losing my balance I begin to topple over; first my head, then my knees. My shoulders, then my knees again. My stomach turns and my heart jumps twenty stories before plummeting back to the ribs that fail to protect it. There is no bottom. There is no ceiling or boundaries. The shadow feels as if it is pushing down on me. And up on me. There is no way out. The pain from failure, from not knowing who I am is apparent as I tumble down and around this free falling nightmare. The one-tone black silhouette of who I am is wrapping and crushing me and my thoughts. And as I struggle for strangled air I can see a portrait of myself painted in what seems to look like flowing sheets in front of me. Smiling, yet frowning. Eyes excited, yet full of tears. A flask full of all emotions, shaken and poured out into glasses for its guests. Looking at myself I become confused. I am too familiar with this feeling. This sort of reflection of myself begins to drip, trickle, and dribble down the frozen sheets and onto my legs. Cold to the touch and seeing myself beginning to fade away, I reach for my legs to only find my hands to fall to the same fate. There is no bottom. The dimness that has fallen onto my body spreads ever so quietly. There is no ceiling or boundaries. My already suffocating lungs compact on the frigidness of the shadow. There is no escape. The shade blankets over the remains of my falling body. No way out. No me.

© December 2006