Embrace that never was.
By Streicheln
- 582 reads
I tried to paint, honest, i did. I wanted to paint the world for you, but the end result was pathetic and sad, nothing but bloody smears on a dirty window. Hopes of life, once so bright, vibrant and thriving are vanishing at an alarming rate, fading into black nothingness, making me feel like i am not even alive, like i am nothing but a product of someone else's bad dream, a nightmare to be forgotten with the first light of dawn.
Every night it is the same, you call out my name when the fever of aphrodisia becomes unbearable, and even the lightest touch of night breeze feels like an electric shock on your skin, as you beg for more, like you always have, never able to get enough of me, never satisfied, constant hunger for my flesh driving you insane.
But i am preoccupied with courting those who shall remain nameless, creatures kissed by the cold light of the moon, creatures with no faces and no bodies, my faithful eternal companions, my lovers, my jailors and torturers. For as long as i can remember myself they come to me every time i long for peace, tearing my soul to pieces, laughing at my despair, gloating, feeding on my pain. They know i never want them to stop, because that part of me that i tried in vain to keep hidden, the part of me that is black and depraved, twisted and perverse, rules me, drives me forward, keeps me alive and sane, despite the fact that deep down i still hope, like a fool, to find reasons for all that i do, that i can justify, if not atone for, all my crimes.
Faces of saints dripping blood, gazing at me with endless sorrow and pain, their eyes following my every move, as i search for my Heaven in the deepest, darkest pits of Hell. Dreams stomped into dirt and dust, nothing but fear and lust in my mind, as i walk towards the light that doesn't exist, towards the place i made up when i was but a child, place with no fear of death, all the while refusing to believe that i am simply lost and have been walking in circles, surrounded by corpses, that are, like me, searching for the truth that none of us was ever meant to reach...
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Comments
Nice one, Streicheln.
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