Every once in a while I wake up as someone else – in the same body with the same memories and the same gestures, seeing the same people, maybe going to the same places physically and yet, mentally, emotionally, a new world opens up within me – is it the
Clinical, surreal emptiness. Chocolate-scented wood. Smell of new and non-alcoholic intoxication. Life as art for art’s sake. Neon light flickers as you blink infected by dizziness. No longer tone-deaf to the harmonies of your own soul, you don’t shrink for someone else to grow. An invisible corpse in the plastic
Two bodies wrapped in an embrace in a tomb of glitter and frost- the blood lingers while they kiss, then it pours gently down the legs of the cradle surrounded by mist. The lake of tears reflects the moon of sorrow- trembling, fluid, unpredictable; their red eyes locked, unblinking, while eternity replaces the
Quiet and frozen: A reflection approaches within the glass I seek meaning in a meaningless palace of empty eyes and half-hearted smiles. Statues of philosophers vis-à-vis- From expresionless to sad, their face changes mood: they empathise. Neither pain nor pleasure felt- My mindless mind projects conflicting eyes filling a void of thought
I taste the blood of dehydrated lips, admire the inadequately plucked eyebrows above vapid black circles surrounded by red on translucent white. Dark hair, itchy like rope against my neck, frozen hands trembling, features particularly thin: I forgot how to live, yet I laugh at my own sin.
She was standing by the window, her face seemingly puzzled by the familiar noise of trains rushing incessantly and birds making harpy-like sounds. It was really taking her back. Back to the days when she made connections between the number of the floor she was living on and the corresponding