All is dark, within me, without me, everywhere.  They say I’m pink on the inside, but that’s a different story, what do they know?  Nothing, they speak their silent words, but they aren’t really talking and their silence is deadly.  It gives time for the voice in my head to whisper, crawl and slither about in the darkness, in the emptiness, taking my breath away.  So hollow, like a dying tree, the termites eating at its inside until all that is left are the raw edges of a stump.  Can emptiness really hurt or does that make it full?  Full of nothing that burns and steals the breath from my throat, my lungs.  The walls close within, collapsing into the void and all there is to do is lay down in the darkness, waiting for my last breath to get carried away on the haunting wind that rustles within the darkness, howling like demons from hell and sounding of dry leaves whispering through the emptiness.  I am a starless night, cold, lonely, and distant.