Is it too soon for discouragement?
Why has despair found him so quickly?
Is he not enough?
smart enough,
witty enough,
charming enough,
resilient enough.

Funny to be riding the high of the public eye only to plunge into the depths of despair.

And the depths of despair collapse into The Void.

The Void Where The Keeper Screams.

The moment is incalculably long. It fills an eternity, but The Void remains capacious.

When he is done. He is ashamed.
There’s so much more to do in The Void.
And still he stoops to their level and screams all the same.
No different than the clueless motherfuckers he’s spent his existence trying to coax into this very place.
To encounter what they refuse to embrace and heal.
No better than the ignoramuses he’s been trying to enlighten.

At least he is alone here.
No one witnesses to his undoing.

Is his purpose, his vocation really all that sacred if there’s no one to give it that sacredness?
Is his ultimate fate to join those of so many desiccated deities?

It’s a bitter pill to swallow.
So he chokes,
he cries,
he loathes.

Such a bitter pill is a seed for hatred.
He cannot stand it.
He cannot stand them.
Them,
with their compulsory cages and their vacant boxes of swirling colors.
Hapless, helpless motherfuckers.

Just like him.

There is so much more.
There WAS so much more.
And all there is is him.
The Keeper.
A Keeper to a Void no one goes to anymore.
A Keeper to a Void collapsing from neglect.

The Keeper is not a Keeper.
The Keeper is a Neglecter.

He didn’t act soon enough. He did not see the danger quick enough.
And now the danger is peril, the peril is demise.

He once was a Keeper. Realizing too late he’s actually a Neglecter. And now he is Undone. Bound to serve a place that is simply just space. A space that, by definition, can never be filled and certainly isn’t meant to be empty.

He will be undone.
And he doesn’t even want to put himself back together again.

Humpty Dumpty is just a corpse.
And so, soon, is The Keeper.