beautiful child, when you lost your blinding innocence?
the doll speaks about freedom, the lips touch the pool
the tiny face in the grave veil, the eyes looking at the dirty world
when was the last time when you heard the piano?
the purity spoiled, the woman in the body of a child
screams from the cage, buried deep in the ground
her hands kick the dirt, the mouth fanged
her father, oblivious?
give her the gown, give her a dagger
as she sinks the poison into the veins
with a twisted smile
sun, burn me, as I confess my sins
(my tribute to Claudia from Vampire Chronicles)
Calm comes with understanding. Understanding comes with the opening of the mind.
The silence of the endless wasteland, where the human foot has never stood before.
The silence of a forgotten temple buried by time. The silence of ancient events and memories that disappeared with the wind.
The rustle of material right next to me. The silence when I turn my head to enjoy you. Your body is so close…
The clock is ticking slowly, measuring irrelevant time. My eyes glitter with a strange glow in the grey darkness, separating themselves from the surrounding me, fading, night.
Silence. How wonderful to achieve peace. Absolute peace. Our own world in which we live silently, breathing in the same air. Two people, dancing in the shadows.
The fire descending from the sky, the scorched mind, begging for the ethereal water. All thoughts closed in a small burning casket, where no air seems to be allowed. The deserted brain yells for relief, the body shivers under gusts of heat.
I loathe hot weather. Give me a cold beer, please. Otherwise, I will change into a dry scarecrow. I miss the winter, the beautiful snowy landscape of forest behind my window. Now even trees beg for a solace.
How many months? Only a few. I count the days until the first freezing pattern painted by frost on my pane…
the ash grove, cinder falling from the sky
the night stretches around the trees
turning into blight
the petals scratching my skin
carnal flowers eating my heart
as the mud flows from my eyes
I don’t remember who I was
the ash grove, filled with the sorrow of thousands
the blight turns into fire
the supernova of feelings
as I search for the one
who I lost
the ash growth, beneath
deep into the crackled soil
the ashen birds sing around the monument
the roots reach my feet
the grey vines entangle me
I am the one who was lost
give me breath, call for the birds of the sun
let them sing me into freedom, with pearly voices lift me up
until I turn one with the end of the world
in the ash grove
It’s somewhere, deep inside me, shaped like a spike. It remembers times when I was still fully human. Thanks to it I don’t need to remember. It stings me right in the mind when I forget. I don’t know it’s good to remind me those times, though. It only disrupts me, makes me more fragile. And I need to be wild, like water breaking a dam.
When I kill, I don’t do it professionally. I do it bloody. I do it messy. And then comes the spike. I loathe it because it’s the memory of who I was.
I am not an animal nor a human. My body is agile and I don’t mind the wounds. My only incurable wound it the spike.
Your life means nothing when I pass your path. I am a cat. I am a wild wolf. I am a death that falls on four limbs.
I am. Qhal. And it will be the last thing you hear when I cross on you.
…Am I? Am I human?… it seems I was. The spike seems to loosen up on my mind. Maybe soon I will be free…
Excerpt from the story I write. Drawing by me, made few months ago, it’s Qhal of course. I think it’s partially X-Men tribute, thought it’s set in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld. I think Qhal may be soon very often guest on my blog.
release the birds, let them return
the black wings severing air into pieces
the cage can’t hold them too long
release them until they reach for you
the sky shakes as you tremble
and your manor’s foundation ruined
the birds returned to claim the throne
here she comes, the Raven Sister
with eyes like black coals
and feathers made of stone
her raven brothers tearing the flesh
and leaving debris
release the birds
release your soul
condemned hands unmasking your veils
the tree loses the colours
scaoil na héin