Forgotten ones.

So lonely amidst crystal trees, in the forest of forgotten paintings of the past. Silence all around, silver of the moon breaking, reflecting in transparent stumps of chopped off fingers. Branches of grown our nails are reaching for the sky, where non-existent God is sneering at us, watching our pitiful attempts to rip the wings off the angel's back. What is the point of all this? We hear the cries of the earth, she is screaming in numb agony, trying to break free, to escape the golden cage of her subconsciousness.

It's so disgusting to swim in filthy waves of someone else's thoughts, sinking deeper and deeper into stupidity of philosophical musings as to the meaning of life. Would it not be better to forget all i know, to spit on the cloud from the heights of my dungeon? Let the pain pour over the seeds of our bloodied dreams like acid rain. What were we hoping for, when we planted pieces of our dead flesh in this arid lands? To grow a new world. No... It's impossible, silly. Dreams. Fragile, like winter flowers that grow through the snow at times. Don't pick them, they will die then. Let them fade away on their own, freeze in icy air, smash to tiny bits against a concrete floor, they are nothing but dreams, after all.

We cursed those moments when we, blind and deaf, crawled across the desert of hopes, waited that a sheet of rain will give us shelter from merciless burning rays of sun. It's all in the past. A soul that cries at night, unable to hold back bitter black tears. Tears, crystals of salt, fall upon the stars, explode, showering me with dust. Cage within a cage. Pacing from one corner to another, sharpened pencils sticking out of my veins, leaving dirty marks on paper.

Long ago we had wings and dreams. All we have left is scars and darkness. Long ago we had ourselves. Now our fate is to search for our essence for all eternity. In the dusk of every evening fear is lurking, sneaking up on us, consuming, paralyzing fear... but we are no longer afraid of it. World is cruel, but we can be even more cruel. World is cruel on it's own, but our cruelty comes from the hatred for the world. We have reasons to be cruel. We will not be heard when we scream, but that is all we need. We are but shadows. Actors in the theater of shadows...