Wednesday, June 18, 2014


Welcome to my Realm.

This Realm exists solely through me and within me, as I am both its creator and source of torment.

(laying down the sticks to make them glow)

The trees sprout from under the ocean, green, waving towards the too blue sky.

(a fallen one speaks now; hush, slow and whispered standing)

This is my place, my home – madness in simple forms.

I did not create it.

(Yes, yes I did)

I keep forgetting.

(She wants to think differently, you know)

She wants to make you blink faster.

Inside of this I wonder just why I see things that no one else can. Why do I hear the birds chirping at night when the rains have finally come? This Realm, my land, my home, solitude of a stranger, I still come forward, kneeling with thick tongue in my mouth and fallen lashes.

(She thinks, she whispers. I can no longer see Her. Are you there? Whisper your name)

I stand in the middle of a valley, under the trees that bear such red apples. Forgive me, I say as I pluck one from the branches the shiver and tremble at my touch. Seductive. A promise of more. I want to give more yet I am afraid.

(A hand given freely, separated from the body. Come now, will you dance with me?)

I think in my library, walls of books that stand in the middle of the city, the city, yes there is one. Filled with colourful people who wear funny hats and drink rainbows.

(Everyone here is mad)

Everyone hears whispers in different languages. I can watch the words float from one mouth to another’s ear, nimble and quick before I pluck them like the apple, yes the apple that came before it all.

(He touched me. So help me god. He touched me)

Told me I was pretty. The pretty. One.

The one with the dark eyes and mouth that he longed to kiss. I am naked.

The city stretches for miles and miles, each direction as far as I can see. I can hear the bricks being laid, one . . . one. . . one . . . one.

Step closer, bend down to the streets. Do you hear them now?

(Suffer. Wretched human. My skin will tear and burn. Reach out to me. Feel the dust)

My lover with dark red hair waits for me in a window that is not open. He sits and waits for me because that is his raison d’etre. Raison d’etre. Without it, said that one woman long ago, I have nothing.

(He kisses me tenderly. Oh god . . . . I want to wake up)

My eyes find him under the street lights. I find him because I can see him and hear his heart beating ever so slowly. He nods and then I hear it skip.

Did he die? I want to touch him. Touch him now.

(Suffer, little one. In this time, I am No One. I am nothing. I want to break the bones made into a lovely prison)

I come forward, naked. This city, this place is mine. The trees that grow from the ocean, the sky too blue to be there, the city that waits like a dead animal. I want to know more. I want to return to my library. Where it all began. Where I once knew myself.

(I was never here. I used to be there. I am double, falling. My blood given freely)

Welcome to my Realm. I hope you will like it here.

I am silent. 

(painting by Salvador Dali)

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