The fear of truth

What if you find a book that has all of the answers that you don’t want to know? Would you dare to read? What if then the way you see the world changes? Will you start to see people changing their skins? Will you see your chains which are made of humiliation?

Will you be inside a cage and its key is with a master of your fears? Will you even try to break free? A slave you are, a slave you will be when it falls into the hand of another slave for it is his only chance to switch. Will your blanket shrink then and stop covering your cold feet?

Never mind, you know what is scarier? If the answers were for Yes or No questions and all of them were Yeses. Now, after you read, a mighty door will open before you and strong white light comes out, will you go in or do you fear the light now?

Mysterious man

“Am I next?” I thought as I walked by a cemetry in Turkey. They were people like me, I am no god. Will I die? That is out of question. What about my pitiful misdeeds … will I carry their heavy weight on my chest? Will they fit in my grave? In the darkness lays green. Who is that man standing before me? Why do I feel pulled and submissive?

Fear of death is suddenly clear and planted. Stranger, Are you reading my thoughts?! Stop shuffling them on your poker table. I am only grey fading to white. As the healing illness runs through my veins I can hear his only loud thought – “You are next.” 

The falling and the rising

Words are sculptured from stones and emotions are expressed from roses, yet the meaning is lost in the falling rivers of hell. How can I tell the long night about my nothings? Shall I sing and be heard through the broken lock? What a rusty voice … I have been silenced for a long time by the scratches in the walls.

The crying child inside my eyes, whose wrists are suffocating from chains, can be heard and so is the old broken lady who is melting in the boiling blood in vain. My hollow soul splashes in grey and as it rains sorrows I choose to feel nothing. How can I write about nightmares that begin with a creak?

How can I tell stories about the evil eye watching me through that keyhole like a circus freak? Dark smoke flows in the pupils of my eyes staring back at me in that mirror which draws me into my fading self. Pain peaks, pain smoothly slips on his toes through the cracks like a diamond thief. My demons are playing music in the ruins and it’s keeping me tamed as heat escapes along with those frozen emotions whom I blame.

I hear crashes waking up the sleep and I see flying ashes making screaming faces at me. The numbers are escaping the clock running away towards infinity and the shadows whom I used to hunt are haunting me. The sky made firestorms of insanity which are ripping my house up and breaking it down. I stood alone and wept until the Phoenix emerged and gave perfervid love to my beginning.