Empty World

I was digging through some old poetry on my xanga and I found this. I thought I had reposted it but I guess not. It's easily the longest poem I've ever written. It has five parts. Feel free to post your thoughts.

I.

"The Day Everyone Vanished"

Empty world,
Can't see it on the tv,
but I can feel it.
The world is empty.
I walked outside and saw it all,
Aeroplanes falling,
Carwrecks and catastrophes,
but it's not on the news,
The tv is snow white.
I searched every room,
and i couldn't find you.
Checked the bedroom,
found your t-shirt.
checked the kitchen,
found dinner burning.
Checked everywhere,
everywhere.
even the crawlspace.
Didn't find you.
I cried in the dark.

Went outside to see the city burning,
Saw starlight downtown,
all the lights are out,
all the lights are out,
and I saw starlight in the midst of the flame.
Went to the supermarket,
and I couldn't find you.
There's no people anywhere.
Only fire.

I went to the hospital,
there's no people anywhere,
and I can't find you.
I cried in the hospital.

Rain falls heavy on the wreckage,
the phones are all dead,
my cell is a useless brick.
I keep looking,
in every shop
and every car,
but I cannot find you,
I think I know,
I won't find you,
but I can't stop looking.

Crawled into bed,
the day everyone vanished,
wrapped up in your clothes,
and cold blankets,
and cried once more.
Till sleep.

II.

"What have I got to lose?"

Woke up feeling selfish,
the whole world is empty,
but you're all I think of.
Do you get to be selfish,
when you're the only one left?

The fires are out.
The city burns only within,
I want to leave,
but it's all empty.
I need to leave,
can't stand our apartment,
too empty.
Fourteen flights of stairs.

Outside I see another storm gather,
As the clouds hold their breath,
growing purple with rain.
I wander outside,
in the wet.
Twisted metal looms,
airplane bits and truck guts,
but not an ounce
of blood nor bone

Downtown I see the lightning strike,
The tallest skyscraper burns anew,
as the lighting hits over and over again,
It beckons,
the highest tower,
it beckons.

I must go.

Leaving home behind,
I steal a bike,
and head for the inner city,
I steal a can of fruit,
First food.

With singular purpose I set my eyes,
to go among the towers,
and find all that is lost,
Six billion
And one.
What have I got to lose?
The tower beckons.

III.

"Everywhere the Lightning Strikes"

Sleep without tears,
I couldn't make it to the burning tower,
in just one day.
slept for twelve hours,
in a stranger's bed.
Had to force myself up,
wanted to sleep not twelve hours,
but forever.

I dreamed.
Crowded coffeeshops
that buzzed with conversation,
holding your hand on a park bench,
Piles of McDonald's hamburgers,
woke up hungry,
cold
and alone.
But I did not cry.
I brewed a pot of coffee,
and moved on.

With dry eyes, I stole a car.
Downtown the wreckage sang to me,
through the open windows,
life echoed like a thunderclap,
lyrics of a battle that was lost,
before it began.

Mystery sang to me,
as I parked before the burning skyscraper.
The whispered music turned to a howl,
that rose hair on the back of my neck,
the back of my arms.
People everywhere.
Dead.

Within shattered windows they lay,
still as if sleeping,
no lungs drawing air.
Corpses every last one,
I know because I checked every pulse,
and every face.
I couldn't find you,
and for once I was glad.

Every city on earth is empty,
every house and street and farm,
Every shop and car you can find,
but as I soon learned,
everywhere the lightning strikes,
An evil is afoot.

IV.

"The Mausoleum"

To the top floor I climbed,
hundreds of stairs,
in winding patterns
that never seemed to end,
till my legs grew lead casings,
and my head spun,
dizzy with the height,
the exhaustion,
the terror.

Rested halfway,
raided the vending machines,
refused to look out the windows,
at a world full with endless nothing,
and empty with everything,
it should have had.

To the top, to the top,
ascension drew me on,
I could hear the lightning,
and smell the burning,
but there is no thunder in this quiet world.
There are bodies scattered on every floor.
Some belong,
with ties and dressy skirts
and some I think,
with dirty plaid and tattered jeans
do not.

The top floor is death.
An open pit, filled with great machinery,
humming and humming and humming.
A lightning rod lies center stage,
like a conductor leading an orchestra.
The mausoleum,
this is where it started.
The walls are fire
but the machinery does not burn.
My hair stands on end once more,
but not for fear,
but for the charge that fills the room.

The top floor is empty.
No more answers,
just more words of mystery.
Lightning strikes again, leaping into the metal pole,
and I vanish.

V.

"The Slightest Peace"

Weightless!
I fell through a sea of stars,
galaxies of spinning light,
weaving through my fingertips,
Weightless,
I fell out of time and thought,
and woke up in an ocean,
drowning in an endless sea,
surrounded by millions, billions
floating all around me.
the lost.

All slept, all succumbed.
I could feel an exhaustion growing in my bones,
dragging
drawing me in,
clinging clothes,
like weights,
I make war with gravity.

I began my search anew,
lost in another world,
breathing water with empty lungs,
and I found you.

With a halo of hair surrounding,
in peaceful sleep,
dreaming.

My eyelids grew heavy,
my heartbeat slowed to nothing,
I felt the ceaseless drumming slow,
as I took you in my arms,
and gained the slightest peace at last,
as the deepest slumber overtook me.