Quasi Una Fantasia

Smooth and beautiful, resting safely in his palm, he clutches onto the small object,

knowing with it gone, a piece of him too will seize to exist.

Shimmering lights sirene their aching presence, leading one foot after the other towards the inevitable,

leaving only the trace of a promise behind.

Tabula Rasa

Lobotomy, heroin, sleeping pills...

Give me anything

Nepenthe

A graceful death, is the only thing she is able to offer these days; an exertion for completion.
She fools him with her devious ways, seduces and binds him to a world of clarity. She recognises his weakness and it makes no difference whither he will attempt to flee, for she will - with certainty - follow.
A choice has to be made; 


Will she let him have her, or more importantly, is he strong enough to fight for her?
Would it end up becoming the sacrifice confirming his greatest fear? 


He has not forgotten what happened the last time she slithered underneath his skin, it left him shattered and even more frail than before.


Could he, without losing himself in the process? 


He relies his fate upon the one woman, whose sincere tenderness sustains him;   


Locks remarkably coal, though carrying life's strands of age
Eyes that radiate so sublime, they sear a daunting, torrid path into the soul's core, making all else fade to grey
And a character even more significant than his own existence.


His answer is clear. There is no alternative. 


"Behave.."

The Land of Dreaming

The ominous fog returns - slowly smothering the small spaces between the dying pine trees

Digging suffocating breaths into the bewildered depths

Each and every single creature, frightened into hiding. 

Sounds of twigs and branches creaking, deafens the eerie woods

Bloody foottrails seep into unsteady ground
And behind the area's eldest tree; a woman - bare of any fabric - is holding a smooth leather cloth in her left palm, firmly tugging on a rusty old dagger.
She rests upon the welcoming moss, her sore and wounded limbs caressing the damp green below. 

Vermilion rose petals scatter over her naked torso 

And a bullseye within automatically guides the shaft in her grip, to its first and only target.

The White Room

The unforgettable echo of his sharp piercing cry, silences into nothing but a short intake of air
Flesh and bones desperately fail to mend his ailing frame
A plead for mercy goes unheard in the desolated cage
But for a moment, the beautiful recapture of placid meadows enters his mind
And only then he lets go.

A quiet and gentle wave turns his haunting grimace into complete serenity, leaving behind; the silhouette of someone he used be.

Conviction

 The prosecutor looked upon the young withered man - whose head hung low in humility and shame- with an expression seemingly aware that his actions were to be rightfully judged.

A lack of any compassion and a sense of underlaying mocking were in the clear tone in which the demon joyfully spoke:
"You shall be tortured, spending an indefinite amount of time feeling the acid on your skin slowly burning through to your organs - searingly and without even a hint of mercy - as your fragile frame tears you apart and by the dark prince of the underworld, you will completely disappear into the nothingness of which you came." 


The man gazed back at Lucifer, admitting his defeat but not quite prepared to permanately leave the life he somehow had already left.

Daffodil

The little mirror in his hand - strong and firm - it challenges him:

"Look at me. Look only for a second, only for a moment, a single blink will do, your lonesome shall be no more and all sorrows will be through."

He knows far too well what the mirror spoke was untrue and when his gaze finds the golden frame - it's beauty striking and it's design exceptional - the promises are the still same, yet he can not dare to see his own faded reflection in the comfortably kept glass. The clenching feeling in his abdomen causes a split moment of reconsideration, before he finally releases the golden mirror from his grasp, watching as it falls between the slick long sun-coloured flowers. It will return.

Knot

How long until it stops?

Icecream - I scream

I crave,- I want it all. I lust,- I need it desperately. I starve,- I want anything but the want.

It's too much and never enough.