Angels of torment twisted my spine into piercing beaks, sculpting my fleshy grave & burying me into wasted nothing, guilt escaped the meaty cage digging through with nails & the bloodshed ink soaked the scene like stained motel sheets, torn skin is wearing thin as it gets devoured by clutching claws, edging as the stricken birth releases a cloud of ravens that spreads like dead branches; color of coal coating a prostitute’s eyelashes, stiff but then those flags mock my snatched glittering remains with cross shaped crows that scatter like bullets clapping for the resurrection.
People screaming at my direction … “Stop”!
“You will drop ..You will fall” then eyes stare
… No … Let it flow … Despair for inspiration..
Thoughts cross over but will I ? Fears shaking
Trembling with huge feet on thin sharp doom
It’s cutting through but we will make it through
walk towards death guided to an unknown mob
Hell beneath burning filthy baby steps “give up”!
Balance doesn’t exist, blindfolded & Mad Noises
Block them out to let in whispers of wealthy lips
Sensing hair which stand to salute to begin to end
Desires climbing out of its throat to choke me dead
The glass of wine fell on the kitchen floor after spins then shattered into broken pieces of glass and ice … When death was making tea the new maid was sweeping the glass to hear the sound of music then picked up the ice to serve it to the guest.
“I belong to death and my skin is its borrowed suit. I am not free but I can choose the time, the place and the way …”
The mysterious man jumped off that chair … What a small pathetic chair! I watched him die and I admired his courage. I am in love with the dead man … His first words to me were his last and our first last meeting was the first last date.
He was looking up and now his face is down, he was standing on his feet and now hanged like the hangman game … What a silent game.
The darkness was around him and I have lived in darkness all of my life. I know how it smells and how it tastes. Darkness is the horrible medicine when the light can not heal.
He was surrounded by darkness before he died. In fact, he was the only source of the light in that closed room. His skin was so pure like the moon but unlike its reflective nature he had light of his own.
I am in a dilemma, should I take his body or follow his soul?
He opened the giant black chest to find a letter and a mirror. The letter says – “Do not look in the mirror or you will be drawn in to drown.” He looked in to see someone behind him … It was him but he had black eyes, he smiled then pushed him into the mirror.
He fell into a white sky through the clouds then rained on this world. The drops of his rain came together to be this liquid form figure that took his shape but he was transparent.
He saw his hands then tried to touch his face like the portrait “The Scream” … He looked like it in the others’s eyes even though they’re not familiar with it. He stood for moments in fear, confusion and horror.
He kept running in this transparent world which has no other form than water. Entire buildings were standing on their own. “Where is the logic?! Water which does not need a vessel to be contained?” People were people alright … They stared with judging eyes like they see through you into your soul.
“Excuse me … I came into your world from the mirror which is in the chest and I came down like … Like rain? Do you know if- …”
“Get away from me! You’re crazy!”
“Well … It turns out that they don’t know that there is a leak … I need a person who knows …”
“Oh my god! Are you Adam’s son?!!”
“Yes … I am!”
“You look so much like him … Do you want me to take you to his mansion?”
“He has a mansion here? …”
“Come on my friend I’ll lead the way.”
“Welcome sir …”
“I have butlers?”
“You have all that you need and want.”
“I believe I’m dreaming or hallucinating … Am I mad? Wow … Look at these paintings, the sculptures, the library looks like heaven … Are these drawn angels on the ceiling? …”
“Sir, have a seat. Dinner is ready.”
“It’s a chicken in a water form … It has no taste …”
“Is it good sir?”
“Oh yes …”
“Not fulfilling … Wake up … What am I doing here? I don’t belong here! I might be surrounded by people but I’m alone! I need to go back.”
He asked the butler – “Do you know someone who knows about the mirror?”
“Sir, it’s an ancient story that our grandmothers used to tell. The only person who still talks of it is Le Fou …”
“Take me to him.”
“Mr Fou … I don’t belong here.”
“Of course not.”
“I can’t stay here … My life will be wasted. I need to live … I’ve just known what I want to do with my life. To give it a meaning … My existence.”
“What is the meaning of existence?”
“To believe in it, to belong then to prove it.”
“How will you prove it?”
“By being the change.”
“You may leave … If you take him with you … He’s stuck here too.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“It is … You can only leave if you give something in return.”
“You mean a sacrifice?!”
“Indeed, both of your spirits can leave in one body, the other should be given in return to be a running river for this world to feed on.”
“Two souls in one body? How!”
“It can be done. I suggest you go back with the boy’s body … You’ll be younger and have more memories to make.”
“As long as my life takes its course …”
The wise man brought out a bubble of colour from a box and placed it into the man’s chest. A great staircase of light cut its way up to the sky and the man’s soul flew with the child and they merged together.
The boy woke up with two different personalities that talk to each other, sometimes each soul would try to force itself to block the other … It’s almost like taking turns. They both never agree and sometimes the man slaps the child. He grew up known as the crazy boy who was feared by everyone and approached by none and it was not a life that he had, that walking dead. They burnt the chest together with the mirror melting inside and have never looked in a mirror ever again.
Dead bodies fell from the sky like sweet rain would into the salty sea and the African orange peeks from behind the blues. It takes brave men to sacrifice themselves in unnecessary wars and it takes brave artists to admit that sometimes inspiration comes from the worst murders like this mass suicide.
A man in the horizon is crying, he has hair of waves and his lazy eye is the sun. Women in black and men in white went marching in lines through the thick water towards the sun to melt, to blend and to be.
If I can only stop to admire how beautiful this breathtaking horror looks but time does not exist anymore and that’s a shame. My sins are here for everyone to see as a carpet of red roses, and they scream as I walk on them and their blood flows underneath my feet to wash away, to wash off and to wash down.
The blind ones were lost between the giant swords, black feathers folded their eyes for us to know them and they danced on the sounds of the piano that played on our nerves, the generous man gave away his eye to the blind for them to feel fear again.
The Fire forced her presence and Arabian horses were born out from that fire to fly and take the children far away to their awaiting destinies beyond this pathetic life to start a new beginning with new ways to die for them to look forward to.
Great voices of echoes were spreading rumours about the naked sorrow in the grand theatre of life. Mirrors were surrounding us … Our stained truth was surrounding us. We only wore masks that were glued to our faces and they were torn off along with our faces but it was not an act at all.
Everyday was a different day but it always feels the same. The best thing is that he can trust him with deadly secrets because he’ll forget about them the next day.
Every night he sits down at the edge of Mark’s bed to tell him a story about a kidnaped boy who lives with them and doesn’t know that he’s a prisoner.
“Does he ever try to escape?” “He doesn’t know that he has to!” “Well, what if he finds out one day?” “If he ever finds out he will try to escape from the green door!” “But … We only have red doors …” “Shhh go to sleep I’ll tell you how tomorrow, remind me.”
“How come I never see him but you do?” “He lives in the mirrors and that is why we don’t have any mirrors in the house.” “Does he look like the monster under my bed or like the one in my closet?” “Thank you for reminding me. I’ll get them out now …”
The man dragged the two bodies on the floor out of the room and as he was leaving he heard “Look, the roof is dripping red rain! Can I use it to colour my drawings? I am out of red and only left with grey.” “Not again … No, you can’t … I have to clean up my mess but you should go to sleep.”
Mark finally woke up from his nightmares on his wet bed but this time a sudden change has been made in the routine. He decided to go to the basement to play hide and seek with his imaginary friend Kram. He noticed a shelf of souvenirs; wallets, watches and pens. There was an old photo hanging on the wall. It was Mark in a school uniform and a man placing his arm over his shoulder.
Mark took the photo in his hands and began to wonder who is this man and why is he in the photo with him? When was this? He took it to the man upstairs. The man was shocked for this was unexpected. He replied calmly with self confidence: “This man is your father, well he was.” “What have you done to him? Where is he now?” “If I were you I wouldn’t worry about it.” “Why is that?” “Because you will forget all about it tomorrow.” “Kram says that you kidnapped me and killed my father. I know he’s right now! You bad old man! You’re the devil!”
He ran away as fast as he could and opened the giant red door and it led to a long path with another red door in the end, each red door had another one behind it and each path became longer and longer with a further door to get to and the more doors he had opened the more hope he lost. This place was designed to make it impossible to escape and it’s not a house at all! Is there an end? “This path looks so long and he’s going to catch me! He’s getting closer and closer! I’m getting tired and I’m out of breath!”
Mark decided to look right and left for a way out and he saw a long window that has light bright green trees looking in from it and the calling light was coming through them and it looked so green. The man was so close to catch him but Mark made a surprising turn and threw himself out of the window.
He died in the arms of Mother Nature embraced by the soft grass. He died a beautiful death between the roses and his shiny sparkling drops of blood danced on his pure legs after crashing between the branches of the trees and through the shattered scattered glass of the truth.
He finally broke free and found salivation! He went out and saw the sun at last! The boy in the story has finally found the green entrance to life and escaped from his miserable death in the black hell. In death he found freedom and a grand white door to heaven.
When children die, they become birds of heaven. I sat my children free.
Hello blue eyes … I haven’t seen you in a while. Last time I lacked the faith and courage, but I’m a whole new girl now. I grew up but I see that you haven’t changed, you have the same pure soothing depth that you had before.
I trust you with all of my secrets and burdens even though your only response is a comforting whisper, your calming smell and your trials of carrying them far away to the sunset. I feel you flow in life, I feel you break and merge and I hear you call my name every night.
I love the way your smooth fingers play on my face like the playful breeze and I love the buried stories in your treasure chest that you tell me. Take me in when I fall into your mysterious arms, embrace me with your weakness and your strength. Heal my wounds and wash my soul from my stains as I breathe you all in.
I have the need to dip into the darkness and disappear like the mermaid’s story in reverse. I want to float, to dream, to be free, to be saved, to live and to sleep. I’m just a step away … One more step to go beyond, to you, for my rebirth to begin.
My forbidden fear,
I thirst to have your soul into mine and let the soulless emerge satisfy my needs. The way you act makes me feel that you are the reaper and I am the victim and this change makes me feel alive enough to happily murder.
I am not worthy of you and I hate it, for I am the rotten apple that fell for Adam to sin on and you are my heaven. The devastating purity that lays in your heart makes me want to rip it out with my bare loving hands.
I do not deserve the kindness you have to give. You, on the other hand, deserve the fire you lit in my cold body. I shall bathe in your warm blood when the time is right and that is a promise for a lover to keep.
You think I hate you because I ignore you, or is it because of my dirty looks that I give you sometimes? I look at you like that because you are above me and that admiration is killing me. The truth makes me want to curl in a corner and weep my nightmares out but I will be your best nightmare instead.
-The immortal death, your loving angel.