I – Denial

Alice in denial by George M. Fam

I can see her. Majestically, she walks across the room and playfully smiles as I slowly rise on the morrow of a familiar elated night. She gestures me to keep my silence for reasons unknown, but “Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin.” I comply with a cheeky
smile for she was my benign drug and I was about to get an orgasmic dose of her being. She throws something in my lap, a piece of paper, a carefully written one at that;

Let’s play the ultimate hide and seek. Let’s play music loud enough to destroy reality.

As she prepares the music with a surprisingly blank expression, sad even, I maintain my childish eagerness to catch her, to catch my life, my lover and my purpose.The melodies begin with a perfect single keyboard strike announcing the start. She swiftly vanishes while I smirk with the walls at her ironically melancholic musical choices. Minutes pass nonchalantly as my countdown to embrace resumes and ends.

“Very near yet

Very far

Very soft yet

Very clear”

I begin my adventure on treasure isle wherein beauty awaits me. Naturally relaxed, I float down the spiral flight of stairs, searching for she who left no traces.

“Way out

Way out of here”

Suddenly, another piece of paper flies towards me and I pride myself in dodging the little mythical whiteness.

You’re not looking my love

“Look inside

There never was a start”

Inspired, I open the castle’s silver gate to gaze at the beautiful meadow with its greenery and tired roses laughing at my damaged memory for I had neglected their needs for mine.

It seems like mere moments in time, or rather, quick successive flashes and it.s time for
the sun to return proudly to its lair before it is timely summoned once
more.

“I can hear it calling me

The way it used to do”

Disappointment from my feeble attempts coupled with the howling winds suggests that my search should logically be continued on the inside. My eye, it burns and I am forced to let tears flow seamlessly from my sight to my face to the floor as a 3rd note kisses my right pupil and raises questions about her proximity.

Yes I am close, I am near and will always be

My eyebrows are helplessly raised at the reasons beyond this ambiguously informative note but I choose to ignore the reasons, I refer back to my favourite addiction quote and I get on with my quest.

“Take this pill

It will make you feel dizzy

And then give you wings”

Where is she? I wonder. How come she leaves no sound to be traced? My nose reassures me that her scent is dominant but has she found the perfect hiding place? A 4th piece of text drops at my tired left foot to answer my final question of a single hideout.

Behind you, in your sight, under you, all over you, within you, I am.

How confusing. How enticing. Scary even.

“I see the bright lights

It’s the month of July

It’s violent here”

Hours pass, my thirst for her is yet to be quenched, my heartbeat picks up pace, my worries and questions begin to surface and a less important note to self is given about helping her clean up what looks like days. worth of dust and rust.

“Sing to me raven

I miss her so much

Sing to me Lily

I miss you so much”

Time passes even faster and I decide to break my vow of silence screaming; My love, this game has lost its zest, come and with a planted kiss on your lips, I.ll declare you the eternal winner and make love to your afresh, afresh, afresh until the morning sun. Her silence
dominates.

“I
See you

You’re everywhere I go

It.s in everything I do”

I delve into our empty room that looks far darker than it was hours ago to calm my senses and wait for her to catch me before I forfeit to my demons. I sit at the precipice, my back is uncomfortably erect and I let myself drown steadily into wanderings in our past, in her
flawless hair, in her timeless figure and in her timidly sweet smile that forces her pink cheeks to glow red.

“This is the end

My only friend

The end”

The music brazenly ends. I turn on the lights and horrifically realize that both my eyes are still burning and my cheeks feel scarred by the constant stream of liquid pain that I had neglected.

~Telephone rings~

It’s my mother in law sounding strangely frozen and morose. What is she saying? The language is foreign and her voice is trembling.

“And then you hear her voice

Cold and merciless

You worthless fool

You let her…”

She speaks and I am slowly learning the language. What is she on about? What is this madness? Last Goodbye? Am I okay? Ceremony? Funeral? 2 days ago? The earth?

This is not happening. This is a joke that is not  remotely amusing. The mother cries violently when I ask her if she knows where my love is hiding. I smash the telephone in wrath and in dismay I rush outside to grab what.s left of my sanity, an old and battered
newspaper titled

<Terrible plane crash ravages the skies of Cairo>

HAHA! HAHAHAHA! 2 days ago….

Now I see.

Now I see her again.

My life, My lover and My purpose.

I open my arms.

Welcome ashen oblivion.

-Fin-

 

Playlist

Pink Floyd – Echoes

The doors – When the music.s over

Porcupine Tree – Way out of here

Opeth – Closure

Led Zeppelin – Babe I.m gonna leave you

Blackfield – End of the world

Katatonia – July

Steven Wilson – The raven that refused to sing

Anathema – Universal

The doors – The end

Ayreon – Day Twelve: Trauma

Sinful Times IV – Despair’s Helm

Devastation.

 

I knew little of it across my limited human experience until this point in time.

Now I see.

 

Now I remember.

 

Have you ever been in a race which you were leading for years only to lose in the final seconds and forfeit your dreams, hopes and expectations?

 

Multiply that by a thousand, and you’re still nowhere near it.

 

Nowhere near despair

 

The taste of iron rusting in your helpless mouth.

 

The state of not being.

 

The wandering in various scenarios of dying.

 

I remember.

 

Vividly.

 

He was just a fucking kid when he was forced.

 

Forced to grow old.

 

To grow distant.

 

To grow devoid.

 

To become the void.

 

Sinful Times: II – Headache

Mind and Soul wreckage,

Expected failure nearing,

I Offer myself,

a worthy sacrifice,

in spite of my lack of taste,

through my lack of insight.

Perpetual journey

through time and space,

a river of sand and snow.

You have to live before

you die young

I Run ,

I fled ,

I flew,

to ease the hunger,

to quench the thirst,

thirst for unknown,

thirst for the sin at hand,

forbidden.

Dead alone,

no friends,

no home,

no strings attached ,

mentality unmatched.

 

Darkness reigns,

dominates,

faithful servant in me,

evil’s heir apparent.

Sparkling eyes,

filled with sanguine tears,

so bright,

in flames,

spouting rage and fury.

In despair I trust,

disperse the must,

among the bunch.

Conquer my foes,

who can’t survive without I,

I keep close those who loathe me,

impeccable logic.

“keep your friends close

and your enemies in pieces”

I love pieces,

so calm,

so quiet,

until they gather,

to form a body or a head.

 

Hate….Hate….such a big word,

suits them perfectly,

fits them like a sock,

those in my head,

are called thoughts,

I call them hell-hounds.

“I wanna do bad things 

to you…”

…..for they are unhappy,

for I am wretched.

Strange world,

strange trip.

Side tracked to past desire,

past grief,

ever so brief,

ever so pitiful.

Nostalgia is annoying,

rises from the ashes,

of pain so familiar.

This hurt seems close to my chest.

It does not hurt anymore

The demon resides in my head,

waiting for the perfect moment to shriek hellos,

to embed fear into my reasoning,

to haunt my awakening,

to whisper nightmares,

false accusations.

Dim future ahead

Fasten your seat-belts ,

emotional turbulence,

physical inconsistency

bloodlust,

battlethirst.

where was I?

continuity an option.

or is it?

it hurts again..

 

Letter to 2.0 : Destination Zero

Dear 2.0,

Hope this letter finds you, well or otherwise,

I thought I’d write this to you, because it seems vaguely relevant and that you would somehow, understand. 

Some days, well, most days, I want to cease existing..No…No! Not suicide, suicide is such a boring concept, a coward’s act, or rather, an act of someone who lacks creativity.

I don’t want to die either, not because death is an dimension that I frown upon, but because I simply don’t want my death to be the same as my life; a life form of no meaning and no purpose that merely brings melancholy in the lands of the living, I don’t want the drama, the theatrics, the earthen grave; it all sounds too “Cheap Cinema” material. I just want to stop existing.

I want to no longer be, to lose all notions of a past that our present consciousness twisted, to never being imprinted on the memories of humans and to not want, need, longer for anything, or anyone; what a splendid nothing.

I also always imagined that when I become nothing, I’m bound to turn into everything and only then I would Be. I would be one with the stars, I would be at peace, I would be peace, I would be the pieces and the puzzle, I would be the planets turning and the hearts yearning; I would simply be..One.

Again, sorry to trouble you…(I’m not really sorry, I just thought people HAD to say that when they’re venting)

Yours faithfully,

1.0

 

The gift of ignorance and the curse of seeing

Ignorance is bliss, or so they told me. I made the obvious, oblivious choice of not believing their – at the time – ignorant councils, for I was blinded by emotions.

All until the night of the accursed when I came to realization. I saw and I threw silent sighs and curses at the sight of the regretful eyes before me on her face. It was the only time I felt the agony of seeing, of observing and of watching, Seeing the hurt in her eyes when she was trying to conceal it, observing a language her body spoke and watching my world of dreams I used to dream burn to ashes as they were born from ashes.

The words escape my pen, or try to anyway; I chase them with the utmost of whatever might I have left in me. My pen is losing its self proclaimed dignity as the words are currently slowing and moving recklessly on the pale paper like the raging sea of emotions that form the failing excuse of a man, or the shadow of the man I claim to be.

How I longed, how I wanted and how I’m falling beyond the depth of what I defined as rock bottom.  Now in my mask I trust, vulnerable no more, now awake more than ever. Thank you for the lesson unwanted.

Yours willingly,

Zeus

The whys and the demise of the mask short lived – 1 –

Why? Was the question that first came to my mind when I first realized her beauty that she’s completely and utterly unaware of.

 Why does one look from those awe striking pearly eyes turn all my defenses to ashe?

 Why can’t I maintain the ever-dominant mask, the everlasting and rather convincing façade?

 Why can’t I turn away even when my own gazes are unwanted or revealed?

 Why is that I lose my words, my courage and my sensibility whenever I’m touched by her halo or just blessed by her presence?

Why do I seek vulnerability when I always reigned supreme?

I wondered, wonder and will keep wondering for seconds turned into hours, hours transformed to days and days into years to come, for I have scarcely felt this genuine, this pure, this astonishing sense before, I’ve never yearned for a touch that vigorously before, I’ve never felt close to something or rather someone which is, or rather, who is so far away. Yet I wish, but rarely do wishes come true, for my only wish was you, the one who flew over and above humans and scarcely knew who she was in my eyes.

Artwork by Russ Mills

 

In his head, he wishes he was dead

Between two evils

one wearing good as a mask

and one declaring darkness,

he lies, insane

he tries, in vain

for he had flames for eyes

and demons in his head,

he wishes he was dead,

rotting in the ground beneath

like a sword

that never left its sheath,

eternal,

immobile,

dead.

He was never ahead,

his mask lived instead

in the lands of the wicked

and the living undead,

he was a saint that sinned,

he was a beast that grinned,

he left no stone unturned,

now he is spewing

about love, lust and the suffering,

about demons, angels and the healing,

with feeble spirit,

aching and timid,

and all is lost,

all is dead,

save the humans instead

and all hail the red he bled,

he bled for brethren unborn,

he bled for future torn,

he bled with disdain and scorn,

for he was comfortable not caring,

he was at ease not giving,

he wishes he was dead,

at his maker instead,

telling stories

of saints and sinners,

of lovers and lechers,

of the birth and the undoing,

of what once was

and no longer is,

he wishes he was dead.

Such a shame,

no one is to blame

for such mortal wish,

of the big fish

in the little pond,

ruling as a God,

among minions,

that never worshiped,

let alone faked praying.

He wishes he was dead,

in the comfort of his bed,

with no one to mourn,

and no one to remember,

for the reason behind his wish

is to be forgiven,

or to forget

that he’s already

dead.

Yours insanely,

Zeus

Christian Bale American Psycho by Lord Iluvatar

I, the damaged.

I am Jack’s sorrowful existence,

lost in my own shadow

or rather

my mask’s shadow.

–

How does one convey

that the shoulders carry no longer?

that the bones are brittle?

that the heart beats no more?

that the soul is drained?

I await the last cold embrace

of my swift, inevitable

eternal and rather sweet

demise.

–

I am one with my demons

and my demons are me,

I long for vulnerability,

as I do for inevitability,

as well as immortality,

when my mask reigns supreme,

too many choices arise

and I am a fool

to think the decision

is mine to make,

my ego driven mask

does all the choosing

while I lay watching

and relishing in the comfort

of my discomfort zone.

–

While I wallow in the former,

mortal needs surface,

the need for a home,

the need for companionship,

a need to lay helpless in her arms,

a need to tell tales of her figure,

God help us all,

all in need,

all in greed,

because you want,

I want,

we want

but the want

does not want

and we’ll keep wanting

until time is no longer,

my infernal fiends,

or rather

friends.

God help us all.

Yours barely,

Zeus

Good is also Evil by Dholl

Derelict

Desperately I am thrown into her arms after a long separation, with thoughts dwelling in the cages, the thoughts of her in my head, what I felt was not the haven I was accustomed to, it was an exquisite display of emotionless carnage, of senseless cold and of apathetic smiles.

I do not know any longer, where these illusions of a spotless mind? was I leaning towards a mirage, I thought was of utter beauty and grace, to find myself in a desolate place, with machine humans with machine faces and machine hearts? or was I plainly and clearly at fault once more?

I looked at the faces and all I saw was mundane, worldly and insane, I was phased by their ability to act normal around this absurdity she is and the abomination I am.

She transformed in the same moment I transcended with my words and my affection, how unfortunate it is to want what is no longer, how cruel is it to love a ghost that once belonged between the arms.

I do not know any longer, enough with killing me softly, finish it already as I listen to the melodies of the past.

Yours vigorously,

Zeus

Faceless by Anna Hendy