2+5+2

Open me

Volatile Whispers

'Your joy is my low' she used to say to me. 'We are nothing more than volatile whispers, you and me. You will die and i'll be left alone, bored, for my arch enemy will no longer live. I need you in this state. Whatever state. The state of breathing and heart-beating. Even though i hate you, I breathe your mood. I create you. And then i don't need you anymore.'
She made no sense for most people, but I knew she loved me. Don't question it, don't try to understand it. Don't even try to think it. It's nothing to be thought of, or questioned as much as there is nothing to be understood. It was that volatile whisper between me and her, that moment that was lingering in the air waiting for one of us to open the mouth and accidentally swallow it. And then the moment will have died, and we will have returned to being just two normal human beings. Thing is, neither of us ever killed it. That perfect silence could stay in between us even for days, it was all in the way she looked at me. And i knew when it's safe to open my mouth without tainting it.
And when the whisper would disappear, she would always look at me and smirk. I had played my part well and she was content. When the silence was over, it was time for the noise to burst out of us. We would scream, but not at eachother..we would scream together, as one entity, like kids do. On the count of three:
1..
2..
3.

Tobias ( M. - part II)

I was so young the first time I heard the blood’s voice calling my name. Like a dark, beautiful, crimson mistress.

In the beginning, it was so very confusing: sure, I never was the quiet teenager, but this thing turned my existence upside down for good. The memories of the horrors I’ve done are not haunting me. Not at all. What’s more, I feel like the ghosts of my past, all the boys and girls, are keeping me company in lonesome rainy nights.

You see, I was never a fan of the big crowds, or human company, in general. The only times I accepted their presence is around big events like concerts or parties, every once in a while. Why only then? Quite easy. Their energy is radiating from every cell. Feeding me. Yet they have no idea. It’s pure elation.

But I’ll bore you with meaningless details of my ways later. Now I wish to reveal to you, my darlings, a quite..important turning point in this drab existence of mine: my first kill.

Like I said before, my beginnings in the art of massacre were quite early. Such a young naivety and curiosity was strangling my core and itching my skin. The nights were long and beautiful, and the only presences I occasionally accepted were the one of my closest friend and the one of my cat. But we’ll get into that a tad later. That night was filled just with myself.

Walking in the historical centre of my hometown back then, I went in my favorite pub, taking the seat I usually take, somewhere less visible. It allows me to watch them without the burden of being noticed. The red velvet on the walls was giving the chamber that romantic, burlesque touch and the diffuse light was not hurting my eyes.  While ordering a glass of cognac, I noticed him. Sitting at the bar, alone, with thoughts flying around like halos and long blood-colored hair flowing on his shoulders,  sipping absinthe. His skinny figure was enhanced by the long coat and, through his body movements, he imprinted a royal touch in many gestures. I felt drawn towards the unknown.

Taking my drink, I got next to him, at the bar, in a desire to comprehend how this stranger ticks. Soon enough, my clumsy starring was noticed as he whispered quietly through barely open lips:

‘That’s not polite, you know.’

I blushed. Turned my face to see his and couldn’t find a reply. Those black eyes were piercing through me, and my train of thoughts was derailed by the smoke coming out of his mouth.

‘Do you have any more of those? ‘ I asked.

While he took another cigarette out from the package , I got a breather.  Soon enough , we were both exhaling smoke.

‘Sorry for..earlier. I just don’t know many people into absinthe.’

He smirked and then looked away, almost gazing at the walls. I soon got a reply:

‘It’s the drink of gods. I’m happy to be one of the few. I wouldn’t like to be compared 

to..them.’ he said, turning his head towards the rest of the people sitting around.

I was intrigued, so we got to talk about all sorts of things: from philosophy to sex, from music to poetry, many of my thoughts were hidden in his. I found out more things about his unknown: His name was Tobias and he was an artist: poet, actor..and everything in between, great, silent, distant mind.

Hours passed us by, empty absinthe and cognac glasses got piled up on the bar, people were 

coming and going, the night was darker and darker. We weren’t close to the end of our conversation.  Tobias seemed like a part of me I had neglected all along: a loner, scared and scarred by society, sad, a sadist..and a masochist. Soon enough, I was surprised by the thought of: I want his brain..his mind..his beating heart. This beautiful stranger was taking over me.

The clock struck midnight.

‘My favourite moment..’ I said, silently.

He laughed..in a manic, evil way.

‘The night is young and it has just begun. Come over at my place..If you dare. I call it Wonderland.’

‘I feel brave tonight.’

‘As you wish.’ He grinned, unraveling his white little fangs. 

A Story From Melancholy Land.

'Is it true what they say? That in the end we all face this world and die alone? Is it true what they say when i hear them talk about how you only have yourself? It's just such a sad thought..'

She was a strong girl. Or so they used to think. They all saw her standing by her opinions and always defending what she believed in, who she was..what she represented.

'But I'm human too. I crack too. My soul is just bursting with mixed feelings and sometimes I feel like I have wasted my life on worrying and caring too much about the wrong people.'

She was a fragile girl. Yet they never saw that. It's easy to judge when you're just looking at one side of the story, you know. It's easy to look at the facade and point fingers and talk.

'They betrayed me. And funny thing is, I always knew they wouldn't stay much. People have a tendency to just..slip away from me. I know..i know I am not the easiest person to handle but..i never meant harm unless i was deeply hurt.'

She was a lonely girl. They used to think it's her choice..being such a strong girl..such a free spirit. They thought anyone next to her would just slow her fast pace through life. And who needs that?

'But the ride is funnier when you have someone to share it with. The road is easier when you don't bare your cross on your own. They always saw the strong side of me because..Why should i let something else show? '

 They never understood..and finally..she stopped caring about them. She lived her life searching for the illusionists: those that can turn depression into happiness and tears into joy. Those who might just..care and love back. Those who respect and stay until the end.

'..for the world is just a place way too dark to face alone.'

Shattered bipolarity

'You think you're dead? We'll just prove to you how alive you actually are.'
I trusted them. In my naivety i tied myself with hopes to every word. I wanted to believe i'm still there. I wanted to..so much.
They told me it will all be okay while they took my mind and locked it away in this forsaken asylum.
'Who are you? Who the fuck..are you to tear me apart between these 4 walls and rape my ego?'
They tied them up. All my personalities were medicated, tamed, fragile. The days were quiet..the pain was just a numb feeling. Every night i woke up covered in sweat..the voices in my head were screaming, crying. At night, my lobotomy was born.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to scratch and chew my way out of this cage called body.
'Close my casket and put me in the ground, soon enough my soul will be a zombie playground.'
But they had other plans for me..

Howl..

He doesn't get me..but that's okay. His green eyes pierce through my atoms. He asks me stuff and i answer. But he doesn't get me. He laughs at what i find important. I laugh back. Knowing this numb feeling is my only true companion.

His soft lips kiss mine trying to get to my heart. But all he would find would be a burial gown. I kiss back, enjoying the feeling. I enjoy his search but i know..I know the ending of this one. Carpe diem..they say.

His cold hand holds mine trying to warm me up. He does but only for a short while. When he'll be gone i'll be left frozen again.

I will lock my ashes away. I will breathe in just to feel that i'm alive. And kicking. I will fight until my very end with my whole being.

I will fight for..for everything. Every bit of myself. Every neuron and piece of sanity.

I will wear his green eyes and soft lips and cold hands. I will take every piece i can, to build something new. Better. Stronger.

I will howl. I will always remember i am Eve.

Nemo.

I still remember that day. Winter was reigning over the nature and the park was filled with shadows. Empty. Dead nature. I was alone, with my thoughts and ghosts. With myself and so many unsaid words that were lingering in my head. It was all so overwhelming and i felt like soon i was going to burst into tears until..until I saw something...someone..

I saw him.

Sitting on a bench, wearing a cowboy hat, a long thin coat, rosaries and a beard. I felt goosebumps just by looking at that jacket as the cold was escalating through my bones. As i walked past, his piercing green eyes burned through me with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. It felt like..he was somehow asking me to join him. Huge pouches made his face seem covered in so much affliction. I had to hear this stranger's story.

Once i sat down, at the other end of the bench, he looked away shy. His cigarette was almost finished so he threw it on the ground and put his red boot over it to stop the smoke from coming out.

'What's your name?' I asked, but once the words were out in a breath, i regretted them deeply. He seemed so tired of people, presences. He just wanted peace and quiet and I..just disturbed. What was in my..

'Nemo' he whispered, stopping my train of thoughts.

His green eyes looked away, once more. It started to snow. Like never before. Nemo took his hat off allowing the snowflakes to caress his red and black hair. Closing his eyes he sighed..the deepest, woeful sigh.

I felt so many things towards this beautiful stranger sitting almost next to me out there in the freezing cold: he seemed sad, desperate..misunderstood. I wanted to lend a helping hand. But Nemo belonged in a different world. Far from mine. He was somewhere else. With his mind..in a labyrinth.

He got up and, as the weather violently took a turn from mild to snowstorm, he left me alone wondering. No goodbyes, no farewells. Soon enough all i could see was his ghostly figure. Going further and further..away.

Remembering that day i wish he would've shared..at least a bit..a tiny part of ..his thoughts..with me. But maybe..that's the beauty of it. Maybe that's his beauty.

I'll always remember you Nemo. With your green eyes, deep look, cowboy hat and loneliness.