The Flaky Derelict

Of masks, monsters and demons caged in my head.

Meditation series, Number One

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Naturally, I was skeptical at first, what is this journey of the soul my friend was blabbing about? I’m only familiar with prayers, and even those I’ve always had doubts about, but what the everliving hell! Might as well add more fictional depth to the mask I present to other humans.

Focus on your breath, focus on your natural breath, don’t force it in and don’t force it out, just focus.

said the old man, in a tone closer to whispers than it is to normal speech, so I closed my eyes as instructed, my fingers were embracing, my legs were comfortably resting on the cold winter floor and

Breath in, Breath out

I started fighting the demons in my head over the focus territory, at first they screeched the sorrow of unrequited affection, they depicted my want that never wanted me, its circumstances and the consequences of it, all in my left ear as clear as the screams of those dying young and as articulate as the bard’s songs in a hot summer day and

Breath in, Breath out

Et Voilà, then and there, I could feel a tremendous weight on my shoulders, ascending in intensity as the seconds slowly passed by, the weight of everyone’s burdens on the shoulders of the feeble I, yet it was as if it was meant to be, it was natural, it was peace in its most severe of forms.

I thought, as you lot did for a moment, that the hellish fiends had ceased screeching, but as soon as this naive thought passed by, they spoke to me, like long lost comrades, they spoke to me of the disappointment in my mother’s eyes, they spoke to me of my father’s dismay, they spoke of elders long gone, who had wished me a happy existence and saw me at my darkest of hours with dying eyes. How cruel can my demons be? Reminding me of past I long longed to forget, a past that haunted me for years long lost.

Breath in, Breath out

Behold the tears of a simplistic existence dubbed ” I “, hypothetical and melancholic, beautifully melancholic, the tears of renewal, the tears of a victorious warring beast at the sight of his dead foe and it lasted until I could see, I could perceive my hands and feet tangled with borrowed eyes, they were not mine and I was left awestruck until..

Open your eyes, you will take time to adjust

I have nothing more to spew, nothing more to add, for even writing this was intense. I bid you “À bientôt” and I guarantee this won’t be the end of it.

Yours eternal,




Author: Zeus

I am the grey area, everything by choice and nothingness by choice, wherein everything is possible as it is improbable.

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