---
Then everything went pitch black.
This is a heart-attack.
No. This is Amelia Earhart.
No. This is not your fucking heart.
I wanted something stronger.
This wine,
which I've been raping all day
only makes me dizzy and uncomfortable.
Image of a permanently
disfigured vagina
flashing in and out.
Scenes of a woman beaten into submission
then skull fucked playing inside my head.
She was pleading for her life.
She prayed.
until there was nothing left to pray for.
---
There was my imagination conversing with me, sitting in a Victorian bench, telling me stories on how should I see things.
A door, a painting of Dali in it, "The fourth dimension" it says.
A colorful kaleidoscopic view of a market I've seen somewhere in the province of Pampanga.
A poem from Poe narrating while seeing a window full of bloody corpses inside it, blood everywhere, mutilated arms, heads and torsos swamped the whole place.
---
Then everything went pitch black, for the second time, now blacker.
---
The sound of Poe's poem still playing, the doors are still there, though the painting had vanished, stolen by He himself Dr. Krakowski from the film "Be still, I am from Sodom."
A shadow of an 8mm video camera suddenly appeared in the frame, then a voice:
A shadow of an 8mm video camera suddenly appeared in the frame, then a voice:
"I will film it, I will film the process of your hysteria, until you succumb yourself with your own tongue!".
---
Then everything went pitch black, for the third time, now the blackest.
No words.
I think I ate my tongue, I didn't succumb though.
"I'm a twat, something's gonna change, I know. I can feel it."
Parts of a dismembered body is always useful to hide the bones you've been hiding for a long time.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
Paranoia.
"Sleep young rascal, you are going to need some of it, this blackness will not be over soon."
---
No comments:
Post a Comment