Hide thy scars

Some scars we can hide. Some we cannot, no matter how hard we try. They can be seen in our eyes, in the way we walk, in the way our spirit seems to lay heavy onto our bodies. Some of them can be seen on our skin or in the way we respond to what happens to us in daily life.
The past makes us who we are. Not only our past...our ancestors past is within us. Not many feel bonded with their own history, they were born without wings...
The future is what we make it today...the future was decided that moment when you caved into one's smile, into the perfect moment that reaps your mind obsessively, in that second that you wish you would have kept still...in warm frozen time, so that you can forever gaze into those eyes that gently rape your soul.
It is not hard to believe, our hearts are truly meant to be broken time after time until old age or the quick twist of a long sharp blade.
Until next time...think of what you lost, and let just one tear cut open your soul while streaming down your face.

Oh happy day!

When Jesus walked? Nah!
Happy day for me because my talent in drawing and painting was recognized.
The Gothic Culture group on Facebook shared one of my drawings , "Silent Evangeline", to be more specific.
I feel I am on the right path, and slowly but surely, I will get where I want to go.

Thanks a million time guys...and I thank all my readers. I appreciate your support.

A fi Tristete

Ironic imi pare acum gustul agoniei. Mai conteaza inca un apus gadilat de perdeaua transparenta a camerei in care zac? Izolare...echivalentul unei injectii cu mercur.
Dincolo de usa se aud rasete...rasete infundate, ca si cum s-ar ineca cu rasuflarea mortii. Rasete de oameni nebuni care - de ce sa mint - ma lasa rece. Ma uit pe la colturi sperand ca voi gasi vreun gand...dar nu e nimic acolo in afara de senzatia (omniprezenta) care imi ofera un continuu salt in trecut. Ca si cum mi-ar fi fost ingaduit sa ma plimb intr-un deset sub soarele arzator. Sa ma plimb dupa placul meu si sa caut prin marea de clipe ce au fost...sa caut neincetat pana le gasesc pe cele ce-mi lipsesc. Si dupa ce-am ratacit prin desertul diurn al bolnavei ratiuni umane, m-am gasit pe mine. Naiva si stupida in adevaratul sens al cuvantului. Demna de admiratie.
Doar acum, impiedicandu-ma de o insignifianta piatra, realizez greata care m-a cuprins.
As putea spune ca pana sa ajung a descoperi ca sunt Tristete, nu mi-am dat seama de adoratia mea eterna pentru Singuratate si de acea misterioasa, mistica zvacnire din interiorul meu al carei nume nu l-am putut descifra decat ca fiind Iubire Suferinda.
Dragostea mea, doar tu esti dincolo de clipe, mai presus de astralul spiritului meu. In eterna durere  adanc ingropata in intunecimea mea. Materiala? Probabil. Acesta este un fapt asupra caruia certitudinea nu va reusi sa-si odihneasca in veci aripile obosite.
Ma privesti pasind ritmic, in ton cu negrul vestimentatiei...e greu sa fii aici? dupa fiecare colt...urmarindu-mi pasii asa cum la randul meu si eu am urmarit un alt suflet ars? E greu sa accepti suferinta si sa ii oferi un loc in spiritul tau, dar cu cat iti dai mai repede seama ca nu te va parasi niciodata, cu atat va fi mai bine pentru tine. Ea este aceea ce nu te va parasi niciodata, aceea ce te va imbratisa in noptile reci dar si in noptile calde. Ea va fi acolo zambindu-ti parsiv cand vei cauta samanta fericirii si o va ascunde de tine mereu...
Liniste absoluta printre oameni si masini. O clipa eterna...un concept de care deja m-am plictisit,
Liniste absoluta... vreau sa imi aud soaptele, bataile inimii tacute...oare bate intr-adevar? Dar uite cum zambesc in societate! ha! nu ai putea nicicand ghici ce se ascunde sub pielea mea, sub privirea mea care pare sa spuna :"salut! sunt draguta si prietenoasa si as pune oricand problemele tale inaintea problemelor mele". Nu ca nu ar fi adevarat...dar ai putea citi printre aceste randuri? Nu o pot spune mai clar de atat.
Nu am pentru cine sa zambesc. Scopul meu este unul precis. Acela de a fi Suferinta. Frumoasa si trista ca un ultim adio intr-o seara de toamna...

Pasesc ritmic in ton cu muzica. Pasesc pe strada ciobita de amintiri si lacrimi de demult infloresc din nou. Dar nu ma plictisi iarasi cu intrebarea :"ce mai faci?", traiesc mai mult decat tine si cu siguranta traiesc mai intens ca tine.
Iarta-ma si iarta-mi mersul ritmic in ton cu severitatea prezentului.
Nimeni nu-mi aude pasii...Nici macar eu.Singurul lucru care imi poate dovedi ca exist sunt bataile inimii.
Am doar doua optiuni : sa iubesc totul sau sa iubesc nimic! daca ar fi sa iubesc totul as suferi mai mult si in plus...ar insemna ca trebuie sa te iubesc si pe tine iar tu ma dezgusti. Deja sunt o sinucigasa, nu am de ce sa ma tem. Suferinta nu va disparea...iar eu nu pot iubi si NU POT IERTA.
Mai crede cineva in Suferinta in afara de mine? crede in ea...si va fi deajuns. Nu va disparea.
Nu isi permite sa se autodistruga la incipitul acestei lumi, printre crapaturile ei moartea poate fi descoperita, mai ales cand individul este zavorat intr-o sfera de intuneric.
Cand ceilalti dorm...cand ceilalti se fut si beau...aceasta fata se cauta pe sine in sfera de intuneric in care a fost inchisa, damnata intru eternitate la aceasta soarta.
Dar eu sunt Tristete, singura intr-o strada aglomerata, zgariind cu amorteala apusul si sperand ca cineva ma poate vedea dincolo de zidul ce ma urmeaza oriunde ma duc.
Tristetea zambeste ironic uneori cand sta singura pe o banca. Totul este previzibil. Totul. Dar in naivitatea mea am sperat in oameni...
El ii ofera o floare, ea il va rani curand.
El nu ii ofera flori, ea vrea sa il ajute dar el o va calca in picioare.
Tristetea vede dincolo de minciuna unui zambet dulce. In orice gest frumos se ascunde o amareala...dar uneori...nesimtirea nu mai ascunde amareala si o da pe fata ca la jocurile de carti. Iar Tristetea stie asta. Tristetea este si Singuratate si Suferinta. De aceea paseste ritmic - privind asfaltul manjit de lacrimi - in ton cu hainele negre, in ton cu muzica linistii absolute. Suferinta nu spera. E greu, dar frumos sa fii Tristete. Un privilegiu..

Frumoasa si singura...domnita in negru inaccesibila muritorilor, priveste ironic prostimea si rade in sinea ei.

Open eyes

Diazepam is my new best friend. makes me feel loose and chill...makes me forget what I did last night, makes me feel all relaxed and desirable when alone in between the sheets. I snuggle myself in my own warmth under my blanket...pink. My blanket is pink...all my blankets were pink. Except for one. That one was red. And oh...how many tears have filled it, and how many orgasms I sweated in it, and how many opium dreams I have had under it's protective warmth. All my adolescence was in there...my drunken nights, my withdrawals, my hopes, my happy dreams and nightmares...everything.
But that blanket was probably set on fire. I wouldn't want it anyway...contaminated with something else but my Golden Age. 
I will find a new trinket to fill with my energies. My new energies, my strong self. 
I like my new universe. Filled with pixels, poems, drawings, nightlife...my best friend beside me, we're out at night doing our best to troll people. In every way possible. Fucking up their routers, their accounts, their cables or cars. Loads of fun lay in the dark. 
We mostly walk the same old streets but somehow, they seem new to me every time. 
"Shall we get a coffee?"
"Sure, my love."

We laugh and dance and we're higher than ever. Our voices rise in the night scaring the living shit out of cats or passers by. 

Hackers? A major threat. LOL.

The art of orgasming is not in sex, but in the scene, the air, the feeling, the touch. The kiss.

Sun shines over our faces much too soon. 

It's time to go back inside and sleep, for a new night awaits...

What is it with you?!

As all my days have passed,
You're never here
You'll never last.
And as your tears all dry away
I know you won't heal me today..

But i know...there is something in the dark,
something lurking, sneaking,
lusting for your soul..
All the memories of me
Burning in the flame  you set for me.

It's on your head
It's on your hands
No rain could wash
The scars that I had left
In your skin as I struggled
to brake free !


Now this poem has no rhyme, has no feeling and no shame
But what it has is something that you'll never see.

Institutionalized

Patient: Lady Eloise
Age: 20
Sex: female
Religion: orthodox, we suppose
Form of insanity: depression

This form of madness is a pretty simple one, and I will do the honor of explaining it in a few words.
Depression, otherwise known as melancholia. The patient is a 20 year old female.In this case, the cause of this affliction is unknown, but the patient was telling us something about the sad stories, sights and words that have haunted her since childhood.
Is she dangerous to others? Of course yes, what person stricken by dementia isn't?
Harmful behavior? She went out in the middle of the might inappropriately dressed, attempting to commit suicide. She might also be a cleptomaniac, or in other words, a thief.
Her ideas of beauty are completely deranged, almost grotesque. Patient seems fascinated by silver, black clothing and excentric hair colors.
We suppose that this affection is due to the fact that she did not accept the reality as it is, her idealism pushed her towards depression and suicidal behavior.
Highly intelligent, ability to improvise, we advise the personnel to manage her with great care and attention.
Probe A: suicide note
"I won't say I am sorry for what I am about to do, for there is nothing for you to gain when I lose it.
To my friends, that I did not manage to keep for I have slayed them all when they fell, I say only this : I love the part of you that hates me, and you may also go to bloody hell!
In my dreams, my lover loves me, but you all wanted to open my eyes to your miserable reality, maybe because you couldn't stand to see my happiness and lay still in your pot of boiling feces and blood.
So you dragged me in with you and now I must ask myself, are you really my friends? I know, I myself judge your every mistake, but I am the one that loves you most and I know your humanity therefore, I will not offer you my love, for you will destroy it, as you destroyed me.
Was my mother a lady or a whore? Well, I suppose the difference is barely noticeable. A lady is, I suppose, a woman that doesn't sell herself as cheap as a whore. A lady must be provided with jewelery, beautiful clothing, care, and maids. A whore is selling herself only to provide for her family. Also, with exclusivity comes class and thus a higher price for your beautiful rose.
Was my father a good man? well, that depends. One may be good to some, and cruel to others. But when I was gone, father was merely evil, not cruel, for he had no one to pour his poison upon, or spread her young legs and then locking her in an empty room.
As my faith ceased to exist, I started wondering, what would be the use of carrying on with  this mascarade? Well, it would be none. Except I forgot one huge aspect: I might be considered insane.
Therefore, my decision has been made. Death is only a dream, and life just an illusion, and a terribly good one. We could not find the meaning of it living it but by observing others living it, that is how we could determine - in a non subjective way - what the meaning would be. The essence however, we could not discover it by pealing off the layers of what is real just as we were to peel an onion. Or could we? Why can't there be a little seed at the core of life, just as we find  these seeds at the core of cherries, or peaches, or apples?
Since all of you left me, I made my own friends, and their voices never leave me, and they cry me to sleep, every night. I wasn't able to find a way of shutting them up, and in any case, they are so damn stubborn that even when I will be dead they won't be silent.
All this being said, to bloody hell with all of you."

In that very night, she was caught by authorities and handed in to the asylum. It seems that this spoiled child is the one who will benefit from the latest treatments for insanity. And if they won't work, we will defeat the child's stubbornness with the classic treatments: leaches, electroshock, nails in the skull before going to bed - to prevent nightmares - lobotomy in the worst of cases will make the patient docile and easier to work with.

"They won't come for you, child. They are the ones who brought you here, you are a menace to society therefore your place is in this cell. As you can see, we actually made the effort to provide you with a bed and a room that you are not to split with anyone else. More than that, you should be grateful to be the first one to be the subject of the new treatment! Do you have any idea what an honor you have been given, only god knows why?"
"Ma'am, I came with you silently with the hope that.."
"That what? that you will be let go? Oh, child...you won't go anywhere. Not until you are better, and we both know that won't be soon, not with that attitude"

Rats...subject to experiments...the ones who get away are eaten by cats. Same for the inmates, subject to experiments, but eaten by their own madness at the same time. It's not as harmful for one's mind to be subject to disease, as it is for him to know he is living in a dream world. Think of it as if you were to have a leach on your skin: if you don't know you have it, you don't feel anything, but as soon as you see it, pain will settle in quickly. All sensation is in the brain, but if you dare to feel differently, we will institutionalize you and torture you 'till the break of day.

The pure kiss

Evangeline kissing Elise. A warm embrace that is beyond time or experience.
What can be more delightful than being at peace with your own mind?
Only death...a silenced soul of a wounded body.
This is a true friendship, and this kiss is meant to show love, not sexuality. Pure love, that can look beyond the grave and see eternity.

Till next time...make sure pain will cover your smile in darkened feathers...

If they weren't yours

So it was that I was gone that summer morning
And I knew it was forever,
Warmth spread beyond my body into my heart
My misery went away,
And into someone else's heart.
Never will I find a friend
A vivid composer, a lover
To deserve my sweet damnation.
Why should one be alone in his suffering?
He would do his best to spread it everywhere
Around him, and in everyone
Who would dare to look beyond his eyes.
If you'd ever want to hurt
The one who placed his heart
In your trembling hands,
Gave you the dagger
And let you make the decision
Of killing him or setting him free,
You just use your selfishness.
You might watch him die,
And crawl at your feet, begging
And you will laugh
But he will cry
Now and forever.
"You filthy dog! it's what you are!
How dare  you leave me,
When I was the one who will ever deserve
To share your bed and bend your heart!
Where hath the love from your eyes gone?
Was I not the one who never deceived you?
Was I not the one who has tasted your blood and shed tears?"
Feeding from my suffering, my pain, my dreams
Life had left my body
Leaving me in front of an empty mirror reflection
Of my former self.
"But you will never leave me, will you?"
"Never! My blood is yours, as are these veins,
And my heart, my dreams, my tainted sad poems,
These scars...would you have kissed them if they weren't yours?"

Shivers through the spine

Loneliness can be a quality companion in those rainy days. There is no where else i would rather be, but here, in my empty apartment. Now and then, i cannot but wonder what makes me so special as to deserve his touch? What makes me the object of his desires? we do what we please, and most of the times, he would just lay in my warm embrace. My sweet rosey breath on his lips, his forehead, his eyes. Limbs entwined, we become one. The supreme being, with golden skin and perfumed spirit. A sepulchral sonata would caress the moonlight as we dance our way to eternity, to eden, towards our most inner heaven painted in the sweet sound of the viola. Tears ran dry, no more will they stream down our pale faces towards our lips, pain will no longer deconstruct our spirits, sorrow would crack beneath our eternity. When all eyes are closed, mind is not asleep and in the darkness of the night our skin shines in our embrace of pure pleasure. When all sound lay still, my moans would cut the night open, and our love will be revealed to the world.
He pulled my hair back looking me straight in the eyes. He caressed my lips with his fingers, and I kissed them, with the same passion I would kiss his lips.
There is no way to express how happy it makes me not to need to lose faith in him, not to suffer because of him...I am ready to take his days in by heart, his nights, his tears, his gentleness, his face, his smell, his tragic destiny. He is here, still I am longing for him in my heart. How could he give me more of him? Everything he does, he does for me.
He leaned over me, softly touching my cheek with his nose, smelling my perfume...

He kissed my neck gently as my look would rose towards the cloudy sky. His fingers would run slowly towards my chest, I sigh as my spirit and my hole body would resonate with what he does to me...
His fingers run up and down on my skin, slowly and gently, like the summer night's wind.
"Close your eyes..."
I trust him completely, and close my eyes.

How could I let go of him? I would not even try resisting, there is no use...he will never leave me, never take my love to crush it, never will he take my heart and stomp it.
His hands touch my thighs, as he would kiss me with most passion I had ever seen.

My heart beats faster, my soul cries, my lips crave for one more kiss, my dreams shatter in front of this perfect moment.
He picked up a rose petal and played with it on my skin, my curves...make him go insane with desire. He kisses me, his embrace is the safest I've ever felt. No fire can touch me here, for I am his. His lips spread wet soft kisses on my neck...on my chest, by breasts...I breath heavily, his lips touch me lower on my abdomen, his hands constrict mine. He got me craving for more, he got me wanting, he got me hooked, he got me burning!

I would touch his hair...his scent would shiver down my spine and make me moan softly, in this delightful, sinful moment.
His tongue made me explode with pleasure, to him I am a goddess to be worshiped, I am a rose in need if water, an angel in need of wings...and then...he gave me wings, and I took him away with me. We got closer to heaven and we knew, in the morning this sin would be forgiven. Every night we have is the last one we might have, and every sunrise washes away our tears. We are safe from the tender touch of pain, from the flame that leads souls astray, from the sorrow that gently rapes our frozen corpses.
My sacred, secret dream came true, and it just wont fade away.
Every tear I tasted, every regret that just doesn't seem to be enough for me, every life I destroyed after my heart got broken, they don't matter anymore. Love is a demon, asking for sacrifices but after being tortured night and day for more than ten years...after all the blood my wounds have shed, and the tears that I lost, after being destroyed for those that deserve not to breathe, the chains around my heart have been broken. This fortress of fears, built strong, has been shattered, my fall in eternal darkness was stopped, and he is my savior. He helped me rebuild my sanctuary and I will repay him with my love, my passion, my unending desire, my skin upon his skin.

I will let you fall within, I will let you feel my warmth, I will welcome you inside me...and let you melt, I will save your soul, with cruelty and tenderness embraced.
And the night took us away, the rain washed our bodies, our wounds were healed by this dark, my truth was buried in his burning arms.