All gone

The beat is gone. So is the vibe, the DJ, the bass player and the guy at the end of the road.
‘Emptiness within’, in the vocal style of Elvis Presley, echoes. A lot of ‘f’ words come to mind, when actually only one will suffice, really.
‘Ifs’ and ‘buts’ and ‘what-might-have-beens’ swirl about the consciousness like locusts threatening to swoop on the imagination and devour any fertility that might exist there.
Dour. Life is dour. Like a blanket soaked in the ocean it drenches the skin in unforgiving coldness. There is no warmth. There is nothing. All gone.