Slide down baby!

A second. A thought. A word, followed by more words. The end of an era, the death of the future. So easy to topple these dreams we build. A mere thought, a word is all it takes. Now, silence followed by confusion, followed by silence, followed by uncertainty followed by silence followed by pain followed by numbness. The end. The end. I repeat the words to myself- The end. I never understood the finality there is to those words. So powerful, words are so powerful when they mean something. I stare at the screen, I type. Why? What do I achieve? Nothing. I do so still. Trapped by words, through words I feel. What have we done to ourselves? Can we not feel without words or thoughts? When did we become so dependent on our own creation? Ah, the labyrinth that we have built for ourselves, and why- we no longer know. Words are leaving me now, they fade. I force my brain to spit them out. My brain tries. I can still feel, though the words are almost gone. Or do I feel? I don't know. Is it numbness? Or is it nothing? I need words to document my state of mind, but I can find none, so I convince myself that I feel not. I feel not, I speak not, I have no words, I write not.

.

Want to tell you how good it feels, when you look at me that way. That says it all.

Diamond.

A perfect beginning. Will the end make it worthless? Let's stop now. Let's wait. Let's stay at the beginning. It's so beautiful here.

I found a diamond. A diamond covered in mud. I can get the sense of it. I know it is there. But will I wash away the mud to find out what's underneath? What if it is a piece of glass? What if? The pointless questions that plague the mind. The questions that should never be asked because they do not matter. But will I stop asking them? No! The mind is an entity different from me. A chaotic bubble of steel. It can burst but not easily.

The diamond remains covered. I treat it as a diamond... this mud covered blob. I spread rumors of its magnificence. I turn it into a holy object. It is now revered. More precious than any diamond. Songs are been sung about its beauty. It has been said that a mortal's eye cannot stand its brilliance. That its beauty is for the Gods. They call it the God's stone. I now have my diamond and much more. I am the keeper of the God's stone. One step below God. Ah, the world I have built for myself. The lie made real. So real that it cannot almost pass for the truth.

It has been days. I must know. I cower in fear. The mud has dried and caked around my diamond. Is it a diamond? I must find out. The need to know. As the first cake of mud crumbles falls apart beneath my trembling fingers, the knowledge of the my stone shines through. I know now. I don't need people anymore. I disappear.

Inevitable.

That feeling when you know that defeat is inevitable. The relief mixed with grief. The two almost opposite emotions combine together to form this beautiful state of mind. Morbidly beautiful. You go through an entire spectrum of emotions. You oscillate wildly between the two poles, i.e, relief and grief. The relief at the thought you cannot win anymore. You can stop trying. The grief at the loss.The oscillations pick up speed as you approach defeat. Your mind goes in a frenzy. The heart races like a deer being chased by a leopard in the grasslands of Africa. Your actions become mechanical... Unfeeling. And when you touch defeat, the delirium reaches a fever pitch. All your senses overload. There is a moment when you can feel everything, hear everything, see everything and smell everything. And yet, nothing registers. As you immerse yourself in defeat, one of the feelings vanish, and you are left with one extreme. You are left panting in defeat and a vision that will haunt you time and again and when you least expect it.

Steps.

I have been walking,
Through streets paved with words,
I picked up a word, wrapped it in skin and bones,
And I had a thought without a soul.
Like crocodile's tears,
Acid rain, democracy and chaos galore.

I have been drifting,
Through cities of silence,
Nobody speaks,
Nobody listens,
The people just sit and stare at the city square,
And stare at me till I can almost hear the silence break.
And, I drift away.
Away from the noisy silence,
I drift away to the melody just beyond the hill.

I have been searching,
Looking for the man I wished to be,
Between the word of God and the Gun,
I choose to sleep.
Yes, I committed the crime,
The unforgivable one,
And now I am left with nothing,
Nothing but the thought of new tastes and touch.


I have been wandering,
looking for the new sin,
A new sin for a new day,
I will repent at my death-bed,
For now, I will be wandering from the morning to the noon.

Spider

I was followed home by a spider. Over tea, the spider told me that she was scouting. What she was scouting for was a secret. For the spider's many eyes only. She told me of webs spun and creatures trapped. She talked of patience and prey. She talked of unpleasant deaths- unpleasant for the now deceased. However the most interesting experience the spider shared with me was this little game she had come up with- Playing With The Prey. "Oh, it's just a little something to amuse poor little lonely me," she said offhandedly and followed her apparently flighty statement with a stare so piercing and knowing that I couldn't look away. She took a sip from the tea cup.

I sat on the edge of the spider's playground. I watched as the spider frolicked around the perimeter of the place. I watched and so did the prey. It lay there, in the center of the webbed playground. Wrapped in layers and layers of webbing, its eyes were the only part of its body that were visible. If eyes could talk, its eyes must have been screaming. I could almost here those screams. It was fascinating to watch its eyes follow her every move. Slightly out of breath from all the skipping and frolicking, the spider sat down besides me, while the trapped prey continued staring at her. "Ah! Look at him!" she said pointing with her many legs towards the prey, "Such an attentive audience! He knows how to make a woman feel wanted. He hasn't taken his eyes off me. Not even once!" She looked at the prey with tender love. "Oh! I do think I love that poor bastard!" She declared to the night. Without glancing at me, she got up and set off towards the prey. When she was a foot away from the prey, she kneeled down and kissed his forehead. Five seconds later, she had her fangs entrenched deep within his throat. I watched as the prey went from being in death throes to being dead. I was so entrapped by the spectacle before my eyes that I lost track of time completely. Done with the prey, the spider leaped to her feet and started prancing towards me. The sight of her, brought me out of my reverie. "Would you like to play?" She asked nonchalantly as she passed me on her way to the exit. I followed her out.

I woke up to find myself wrapped in layers of impending death. My eyes were the only part of my body that had been left uncovered. "How did it ever come to this?" I asked myself. I could see her flouncing about the playgound. Her spirits were up amongst the birds. I closed my eyes, unable to witness the horrifying spectacle. I knew what I had to do. I had known it. Deep down, I had always known. I sighed mentally. "She and I... if only... No! There is no time for that! It's never going to happen! Do what you have to do!" I ordered myself. "You are not a very good spectator, you know." She said from the edge of the ground, her echoing complaint reached me and faded away to oblivion. "Look at me! Please, please, please, pretty please," she implored of me ever so sweetly. "Oh man. This is so fucked up." I thought to myself. I opened my eyes. As she saw me open my eyes, she started scurrying towards me. I bit down hard and in the process, broke a tooth. She kneeled next to me, her many eyes staring at me with complete love. She kissed my forehead. She looked into my eyes just as she was about to say hello to my jugular and smiled that smile that only lovers know. My eyes smiled back at her and so did the poison that now traveled within me, sailing in the broken tooth. My last thought before the poison took over me completely was that she will be joining me as soon as she tastes my blood.

I went into the darkness satisfied.

A Joke.

He was going to be the clown,
The joker he was to be,
Face paint and a stolen red nose,
And with a dead reindeer buried in the closet,
He set out to plunder the land of glee.

When he walked the plank,
He fell into a glass of water.
He waged a war to capture the hill,
The ants defeated him still.
Yeah, he is pretty funny,
But is he a joker or a joke is he?

Chased by the bandits,
He hid behind a scrawny bush,
It hid his toes pretty well,
The rest is an immortal joke.

What is he doing?
Running around in circles,
Is he trying to collide with himself?
Well, let's wish good luck to him.

Now, we step into his house,
A dilapidated shanty it is.
There he sits in front of a broken mirror,
The candlelight illuminates his face for us to see.
Rivulets of bleary brown scar the white face.
Are those tears we spy?
Creepy.
They go so well with that fixed smile of his.

The joker turned into a joke.
By candlelight his baritone turned into a squeak!
We love him still!
Don't we?
For be he a joker or a joke,
He can make our troubles flee!

The Land.

He was a tiny speck on the mutated landscape. He ran... from me. He ran and I followed. It has been over two decades since the chase began. We have turned into companions of sort- Him, me and the chase. The hate, fear and the thrill of the chase, binds us together in a bond strong enough to stand the test of time. In-fact time has ceased to be of importance. We have transcended time. Ah, the miracle of hate which is strong enough.
On that particular day, I came across a brook. As with every habitat in this land, that brook was infested or rather inhabited by mutated fishes and amphibians. At times, I feel as if I am the mutant in this land, that it is I who infests it. The brook rippled with his presence. A presence which had entered the realm of past tense not more than a day ago. His reeking scent was everywhere- on the rocks, the purple grass, the green clouds, the underground trees. It inflamed my hate. It was my fuel, my food and my inspiration. I decided to rest under the red shade of a rocky outcrop, where he had rested not a day ago. This land is so fucked up and it is perhaps, more beautiful than before! No, no, no! That is him talking. This land is evil! It needs to be purged! It needs to be purged of him! With a hand on the hilt of my dagger I drifted off to the land of the dreams. Each one of my dreams was real. Each ended with me sinking my dagger to the hilt within his chest. Each dream ended with the dagger piercing his black heart. Each one of them ended with his end. I could almost taste the satisfaction of witnessing the fear creep into his eyes at the sight of me. I could feel his defeat.

Wake up.

A jab. A punch. A jumble of claws and arms. A scratch here. Blood. The dagger finds the jugular. My breathing returns to its normal rate. The adrenalin rush passes by leaving behind a shivering me. I stare at the dead carcass of the mutant dog that had tried to attack me. Man's best friend. Ha! What a fucking joke!

I remember being almost a God once. Many years ago, I used to wander this land, hoping to find a cure for its illness. I was its savior to be. After all it was I who now possessed the dagger of The One God. The true God who came forth before this land was struck with whiteness. I was, therefore, his heir apparent. I used to look upon the creatures of this land with compassion. I wanted to make their pain my own. I wanted to assure them that I will make everything as it used to be once again.

On that night many years ago, I stood upon a flat rock, which elevated me some some fifty feet above the rest of the land. I raised the dagger to the orange skies, the dagger gleamed in the moon's bluish glow. A mutant hyena saw me. More importantly it saw the dagger. It climbed the rock, its belly touching the floor and its head bent forward in a posture of reverence. As it reached my feet, it raised its head towards me and instead of love and hope, its eyes held hate. A boiling, raging hate. My dagger went to work for me, while the mutant was still in mid-air, its open jaws aimed for my neck. As its headless body fell off the rock, I knew that there was someone else who wished to be a God. I became aware of him. He was a mutant. He wanted this land to accept this cancer. He wished for the mutants to stop fighting their illness. He had, it would seem, fooled some of the creatures into believing that they were an improved race. That their mutant nature was something to be proud of. He was one evil motherfucker. And when I glanced at the horizon, I saw him staring back at me, with a dagger of his own. He was there and he had a following. He was going to die at my hands. He would die before he could corrupt this already corrupted land. So began the chase.


p.s - To be continued...

We?

I come unbidden.
Don't fight me.
Sail with me,
Waves of music,
Whirlpools of joy.
Come.
Come with me.

A breath for a breath,
A heartbeat for a touch,
A smile for a glance,
A sigh for a farewell.
Come.
Come with me.

Can't you see?
You don't need to.
I don't care,
I just want to be with you.
Is that enough?
To carry us through?
Through to the end?
Are we strong enough to face the rough?
Are we?
Are we even a we?
Are we?
Come.
Come with me.

A brush of lips,
A gentle kiss,
A bite to scorch the soul,
A need quenched,
A need never satisfied,
A pool of needs,
A storm of wants,
Amidst them we stand.
Still. Stationary. Hand in hand.
Be at peace.
Come.
Come with me.

Consolation to the Foolish.

The tents have been removed,
The rides have been shut,
The carnival is over.
There is a silence in the darkness,
And I can no longer feel the rhythm of your breathing besides me.
As the sense of loss rushes through my veins,
Infusing into my very bones,
It ends in a high pitched whine,
A shattering scream.


The world falls around us,
It breaks into pieces.
Shards of broken mirrors,
Amidst them we stand.
Not together.
Not alone.
A shadow to each other,
Dark silhouettes, barely visible,
We are but vapors of misty breath.


A lifetime from now,
In the middle of a crowded street,
Or maybe an island long forgotten,
A place not known,
Not to us.
We will meet each other again.
You will be there,
I will be there.
The world will stand still.
Our world.
And like the crashing of waves on the rocky beach,
You and I will be one.

Descent.

I lost my way again. I lose it often. Somewhere between thoughts and converting those thoughts into words. What comes out of my mouth is not what I had thought. How fucking frustrating is that? Very.

Am I the only one who suffers from this handicap(?)... am I? Words on their own are so incomplete as a means of communication. Why are we taught only the language of words and not that of the body? While words can be hidden, twisted, manipulated, silenced, held back... the body screams everything it feels. All you need to do is to know how to read it, how to listen.

I am standing at the edge of self-destruction again, staring at the vast, seemingly infinite chasm below. I have taken this leap many-a-times. Will I take it again? I do not know if self-destruction is even the correct term. It is to fall, to fly. When there is no end to the fall, isn't it as good as flying?And as you fall, you lose everything that is not you and what is scary is that you are likely to fall apart if all you have is you. That you are at your most incomplete when you are complete, when you are just you.

The feeling of incompleteness gradually recedes, the regrets fade away in the background. And then you experience peace and contentment like you have never before. You are you and that's it.

Boredom settles in. You build again. You build, you reach for the sky and then you stand at the top again, to take the fall. You build not to touch the sky. You build to jump, to fall, to fly.

It.

I woke up to find it standing by my bedside.

I remember when I had first met it. I used to live somewhere else, the bed I used to sleep in was different and I was much younger, I was somebody else back then. Over the years I have met it again and again, it has never changed... not one bit. Even though it is to me what a butcher's knife is to a hen, I thought I should at-least make small talk with it. Ask it how it has been. After-all I've known it for so long.

Still groggy from sleep, I was about to say something in the form of a pleasant greeting when I saw its face. That face filled with hate, devoid of any features. Its body a swirling, crawling mass of everything I hate... Everything I fear. My stomach gave an unpleasant lurch.

"What is it that you want this time?" I whispered.

"I do not want anything. I wish to tell you that something is wrong."

"What?" I blurted out. My pulse was racing like a fucking racehorse.

"You know that I am not at the liberty to tell you the 'what' and the 'how'," it paused, drew in a deep breath, the sound of it like the screech of a sand paper on a black-board, "All I can say is that you are in for a lot of pain in the near future."

"Please. Please, tell me. Just this once." I begged.

"No. You hate me. You fear me. I'll tell you this today, that I am you. A part of you. I am your intuition. I am your conscience. You know all the answers, if only you can open your eyes."

"Motherfucker."

With a cackle of hate-filled laughter, it was gone.

Them.

They stood face to face in a room in the middle of nowhere. Alone. The rain beat down on them, drumming against the rooftop. The utterly dark sky insulated them against the universe.
He watched her walk towards him. She was to him the eye of a tornado, with emotions swirling around her in a mad frenzy. She seemed like a wild animal- an outsider. They were two of a kind. She told him that she will give him everything he needed and then she will take it all away from him. She offered to show him how to be alive but told him that she will also give him death. He trembled, afraid of her. She agonized over his apparent agony. They looked at each other. To take the plunge or not? She asked him to take the death-leap with her. He backed away. He got ready to escape.

When she held out her hand to him, he took it.

So near...

I remember traveling in the train. A 40hr journey. I remember passing through half of India. I remember the sounds, the taste, the beauty, the ugliness, the sense of freedom. I remember sitting at the entrance of the coach, legs dangling outside, staring at the virgin night. A night over a land which has barely ever seen an artificial light. A night that turned truly black every time the moon hid behind the clouds. So black that the light from the coach was reflected back. Every once in a while, I could make out random shapes as the train sped through the vast landscape. A tree, a scarecrow, a hut or maybe they were something altogether different. It was, after all, extremely dark. I plugged my earphones then, switched on my i-Pod. I listened to the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven as the night rushed by me. I looked up at the sky. I saw the full moon. I understood for the first time the sheer beauty of the moon. I was mesmerized. I stared at the moon for some more time. I stared until the rhythm of the train sent me into a trance-like meditative state. I thought of things I had never thought of and I thought of things I think about everyday. I felt at peace. A tiny speck in the infinite space. A blink of the universe's eye. That is me, I thought. I was strangely comforted by the thought. I knew then, that the world did not revolve around me, not even my world. I knew that it was true for everyone.

I remember experiencing the sudden rush of blood, every time the train stopped at some small station. I could have gotten down and ran away. I could have been a drifter for life. I could have tasted forever in an instant of time. Many forevers. A step, was all I needed to take. I did not take that step. Today, I wonder why. I crave for that feeling today- the feeling of being one step away from breaking all the bonds. Is it a crime to escape when there is no fight? Will I be called a coward if I run when I have nothing to run away from? Can I not escape for the sheer pleasure of escaping?

Can I not? I wonder.

The Man Who Was Fooled By Hope.

Covered in grime,
Sinking in quicksand,
Oh, you look so funny,
About to sleep forever standing,
Deep in this muck.
Where, my friend, is your deathbed?

Tell me.
Can you taste it?
The taste of the murderous sand on your last breath?
What will you give to me if I can make you disappear?

Think about it, friend.
Out of this death-trap,
On the shores of a tropical island,
Or maybe in the middle of a peaceful valley somewhere in the Himalayas?
How about a crowded city?
A city pulsing with life!
I can give it all to you.
I can make you disappear.

You don't have to run,
You don't have to fight,
Stand back and be gifted with a new life.
Start worshiping me, friend.
Your time is running out.

There you go!
You stupid fool!
Now, nose deep in the sand!
You and I, we will have to talk through eyes!
I hate conversing like this!
Do you want me to go away?
Why did you not speak?
What is there to think about?
How could you chicken out on the deal of a life time?
You stupid fuck!

There, there.
Don't cry.
If nothing, I will watch you die.
You will not pass away unnoticed.
Your death will be documented and noted down.
This, I give to you free of charge.
I am your friend, after all.

What?
You want to be free?
You want to disappear?
Is that what your eyes tell me, friend?
Is that what they say from behind a curtain of tears?
Shake your head or move it in whatever way you can,
Just a signal,
So that I know.
So that I can be sure.

Heh, you look funny,
I am sorry but you do.
Trying to shake your head like that,
Did you ever think it might end like this?
Ever?

Alright! Enough!
A snap of my fingers,
And you will be free,
Not from me.
But free,
You know?
*snap*

Window.

The corner room on the first floor of a run down motel. It was cheap. I needed to save money.

I had time to kill. A thin sheen of sweat covered me. It was humid, not in an unpleasant way. I stood against the window, behind the grill. It was slightly windy outside. A cool breeze wafted in every now and then. The feel of the wind as it evaporated the sweat off my skin made me feel at peace. A lazy peace. The curtain covered half of the window while I covered the other half. The street light hid me in shadows, the grill painted on my skin. The palm tree outside was half lit, half in shadows- sinister is how I would describe it. It appeared to be reaching out for me, like it had for every person who had stood behind that window. Such everlasting yearning. If only I could talk to it... or maybe not. It was better this way. It was 10:30p.m. I saw couples walk on the road, holding hands. I saw a drunkard trying to fight with himself for control. I saw a man who stumbled while walking and looked around furtively, embarrassed perhaps. I saw him regain his composure as he found out that nobody was observing him or so he thought. I saw all of them as I stood behind the grill. My prison or was I the only one free? I stood there, lost in the wind as it talked to the palm tree. The rustling noises almost decipherable. Almost. The street my very own theater. An hour had passed by. I decided to light a cigarette. The time had nothing to do with it. But an hour had passed. That has to be important. Something worth noting down.
The sky was partially cloudy. The stars peeked at me every now and then, before they disappeared behind the floating clouds. Strange. Majestic as the stars are, to be hidden by thin masses of gas. Strange but hardly surprising. Surprises. They don't come my way very often. I feel numb. Old at times. I can stay here forever- in a cocoon of shadows, sweat and cool wind. Watching. It is scary, but I am not scared. There is a rhythm to all of this and I am a part of it. It will go away once I abandon this post. So, I decide to stay for some time more. My cigarette is almost burnt out. I throw it out of the window. I watch it fall. My bid to let the outside or the inside world know I am there. To let it know that I exist. It goes unnoticed.
The road is deserted now. It looks beautiful. Black. Every now and then the illusion of beauty is destroyed by the headlights of a passing car. It is immediately restored. I find it fascinating- the immediate restoring of the beauty. A thought touches my conscience and escapes before I can grab it. That thought would have made sense of it all. But, it has gone away now. I think about it for a while. Then, I let it go. I see a bike stop on the side of the road. The man gets off the bike and lights a smoke. The two of us smoke. Each lost in our own world. This is strangely addictive. I feel tired but I want to stay here. The phone rings. The wires that connect me to my other self snatch me away. The window loses its allure. It will always stay with me, though. The fact that I could live there. Behind a window.

The Black Lake.

The murky depths await me.
I've stared too long at my distorted reflection,
On the ground I stand,
The other self looks back at me,
Looks me in the eye.
That terrible gaze.

Those eyes...
They know,
They shimmer with sinister knowledge,
Or perhaps all knowledge, if complete, is sinister?
They know everything there is to know about me.
They are my eyes,
Yet not mine,
The reflection always knows more,
You only choose not to see.
The godlike stare,
The temple of the black lake.
My reflection, made a god.

Tossed a pebble too many,
Observed them skim the surface of the terrible lake,
Seen them fly,
In the end they all sink, without fail.
Now, I am afraid,
So must I.
The lake beckons,
It ripples with impatience,
It must have its fodder.
It must be fed.

I breathe,
A deep breath.
The lake breaths with me.
It sighs, even as I do.
How afraid am I to dive within my own mind?
To face the whirlpool of my own thoughts?
How afraid are you?

Night follows night.
A darker night descends.
The moon has never shone more brightly.
The wind has never been this cold,
Never has its anguish been so apparent.
The reflection grows,
The other self becomes more real.
Time for me to step into the shoes of the distorted reflection.
Time for me to touch the bottom of the black lake.

The Fraud. The Magician.

Look.
Watch me spin images.
So wondrous.
Beautiful.
Surreal.
A sweep of hand,
There. Your life is complete.
A sudden movement,
The falling hat,
Slight of hand,
Your life in shambles.
I give to you; distorted reality.
So easy on the eyes.
You would want to believe every lie I speak.
Yes, it's true.

Watch.
Look at me, as I dig your grave,
As I make you believe it to be a castle.
Lie down on this exquisite feather bed,
No, don't worry.
Ignore the smell of the death.
Ignore the tombstone.
What have I turned you into?
A cracked sculpture.
A shadow of perfection you used to be?

Yes, these tears.
These tears of blood are good for you.
They cleanse you.
Ignore them for now.
Observe my hand,
Look into my eyes,
I'll give you another pleasing lie.
The best one of the lot.

A knife soiled by gore.
This will be your salvation.
Trust me.
I am the magician.
Ignore the hurt,
Listen to my lies.
Stay in the world I build for you.
The knife will take you there.
Hold it.
The shrieking wind celebrates your triumph.
These ruins, are nothing but a stronger foundation for your future empire.
The mourning night bids farewell to your worries.
The weeping skies, ask for your sacrifice.

You have to go.
You are a creation of pain.
Built by a fraud.
A sculpture of lies.
A tap of the wand,
You disappear.

Realization

Drunken delirium,
Fog of alcoholic fumes,
A clearing, I see.
And in it, the stark truth.

Can it be so?
The truth so cruel.
A hammer on my head,
An electric shock running up my spine.
But the truth it is,
And it is here to stay.
Accept it.
Bow down,
For it is god the of rationality,
The grip for your sanity.

Will I run from it?
Will I cower?
Can I watch myself bleed?
Can you?
Ahahahaha, how does it feel to see the bubble burst?
To see a cliched phrase come to life?

Suckered in by words,
Random sounds?
How fickle is reality?
How tempting a pleasing lie.
Sigh.
Now, I know.
Now, I do.
Well, fuck it.
Let the truth sleep,
Let it be,
Let it lie,
Till the time it needs to feed.
Now is the time for lies,
For now is the time to live.

Fear, Worry and That Undescribable Feeling.

Creeping darkness,
A slow poison,
The stalker,
The carnivore primed for the death-leap.
The prey;
You.

Caught unaware,
Surrounded,
The queasiness in the pit of the stomach,
The threat of unimaginable pain,
The preparation,
The wait.
The face-off.

Enter the ring,
In the right hand corner,
Dressed in black,
Menacing and featureless... stands Fear.
Already cowering with impending defeat,
In the left hand corner,
Completely naked,
Stands... the prey.

The fight,
The unseen wounds,
Overwhelmed,
Smothered,
Suffocating,
The loss.
What have I lost?
What?

The prey will strike back.
Soon.
Yes, it will.
For now, it recovers,
Hiding in its underground cave.

Sleep

Drooping eyelids,
Colorless images,
Muted sound.
Call of the dreams,
The beginning of the escape.

Lie down,
Creaking bed,
The sighing of the pillow,
Eyes shut,
Descending darkness.

The explosion of colors,
The realm of imagination.
A sniper in the jungles of Africa.
A spy in East Germany during the Cold War.
A dying cancer patient.
A random conscience in the future.
A shipwrecked sailor on a deserted island.
Being chased by that monster,
Running,
Trapped,
The edge of the void,
Falling... falling... falling
Gasp.
Eyes wide open,
Heaving chest,
A shiver.
Welcome back to unreality.

The Traveler

A silhouette on the hilltop,
A floating shadow,
A dark cloud guided by a burning cigarette,
The traveler has escaped again,
The traveler is free.

Cracked windows reflecting blackness,
Broken columns being strangled by ivy,
Torn spiderwebs,
The fading footsteps that lead right through them,
The traveler was here.

An abandoned village,
Voices lost,
Still nights,
Suffocating silence,
A trail of cigarette smoke,
The traveler was there to witness the fall.

A hidden creek,
Soggy leaves rotating in pebbled whirlpools,
The lingering echo of the traveler's morbid whistling,
The chase is almost over.
Almost.

Lightening.
The dark clouds,
The spreading stain of blackness on the milk-glass sky.
A lonely wall without a structure,
The forlorn curtains flourishing,
Dancing their death dance with the winter wind.
I see him.
I see the traveler.

The silent chase,
The need to steal his sight,
To make it mine.
Almost there,
An arm's length behind.
The shadow stops,
The burning cigarette flares,
The traveler turns around,
You stare back at yourself,
And like a swift intake of breath,
Comes the drenching rain.

Untitled.

You wait.
You breathe,
Deep breaths.
You exhale out the dread,
At least you try to.
Your love is out there... somewhere,
Dying.
It is being smothered,
Being killed,
In the arms of another.
The heart sinks,
The soul rejects.
You want to hold on,
To feel what you once felt.
To let it stay.
That feeling,
Raw and pure.
But.. but the soul revolts,
It refuses to let it be.

A dripping tap,
A drying river.
Two loves.
You are being trapped again,
Divided in two.
Two related extremes,
The relation is beyond your grasp.
Stare at what's around you,
The brain rejects.
Why can't you see?
Stare some more,
The mind refuses to see still.
Trapped within your thoughts you are,
Entranced by the sights they offer.
Come out... come out please.
Let the magic die.
It amuses you no more.
An addiction it is,
It is time,
It is time for you to leave the theater,
Time for the magic to die.

The Rotting Branch.

Dying,
Being fed upon,
The rotting branch.
It can remember what it was to live,
It can remember the rustling of the leaves,
The feel of the gentle breeze.
The fragrance of the wet soil.
The joy of the rain.

How did it ever come to this?
Was it the poisoned body that poisoned its soul?
Or was it the other way around?
So full of life it was,
So alive with emotions,
Where did it all go?
What... what brought about this rot?
Who turned it..
Turned it into a rotting branch.

Numb,
Surrounded...
Covered, immersed, drowning.
Spasm after spasm of piercing numbness.
It prays.
It prays for life.
Prays to be able to feel again.
Prays for the numbness to go away.
For the rot to be slain.
But the corruption is too deep.
For now and forever it will be...
A rotting branch.