I didn't know how to start. She was bleeding and I didn't know what to do.
I was waiting for her to say something just to know if she's still alive.
Was I dreaming all these years? Am I awake right now? Is this the consequence for the sins I've done? Why am I here? Am I really here, I mean physically. Those were the questions I needed to answer, but instead, I was confronted by another set of questions.
She was lying in a sofa. a red one with a lighter shade on the right side, it is the one that you can comfortably sit on, the one that eats you, her head was lying on the left side and a pillowat the end of her foot.
She was horribly still, like a tree in a far away land, but unlike trees, she doesn't resemble to life. She was too beautiful to be dead, I said to myself. Well, is she?
I was holding on my thoughts of her, how she chewed her food, how she thought laziness is next to godliness, and how she complicatedly thought about random things she cannot express in words, no definite language she can use to express, fake affections in a very sympathetic way, how she told me stories about the final reality, emotions, natural common sense, happiness and the ambush of her own shadowy thoughts.
I didn't want to panic, I thought if I was calm, She would just twitch, wake up or do something, just do something to debunk my belief that she is dead. There was no fear in me, it was just restlessness.
I decided to sit right in front of her, to appreciate the beauty of her physique, I stared at her, like a writer staring at nothing for a very long time. I felt her lips by only looking at it, her hair, long, healthy and black covered her bosom along with her white, bloody dress. I kissed her, yes, I kissed her eyes using my mind and in my thoughts I was conversing with her.
I torched a cigarette and reached for the table in front of me to pour myself a drink, I wanted to slap her in the face, to wake her up, to ask her questions about my questions, about the thoughts I've thought of a long time ago.
My nerves were restless before the drink, ah! the drink, it was vodka, whiskey, cognac, I was not sure. The first two was fast, I needed it, and then it hit me, that numb-blank feeling. I wanted the feeling to stay, I could use it to think, to not exaggerate the situation. I needed to be blank, to be numb then to be blank again, I poured another full glass, now I was sure it was Vodka, the cheap one.
For a moment I wandered about a pig, my old dimmed thoughts about a pig came into surface, a pig who has to write a poem, a thick pink pig with mud all over, and I asked her, does a pig mind if I sit and snore beside him?
Then I was calm, the sound of metal clicking from a metronome filled in my ears. "This is the kind of thinking and atmosphere I need right now", I said, I was literally producing sound for those words while she remained perfectly still, lying in her red sofa with her white dress.
I needed time to think. I needed time time to wander about the thoughts that slowly but surely grows on me. Just like you, I cannot dig my thoughts whenever I want to, in an instant, they were gone, but they grow, I am sure of it, it is not necessary for me to learn it, however, I feel every grain of it, they are inside a sack, some of them too dead to be picked and touched, some of them morbid and indefinite, all of them, I feel them, I eat them, I finish them. No mater what, I finish them.
The fact is I am in a room, with two people including my self, remembering all my proper and improper thoughts, squablerring about dimly-witted ideas inside and outside my domain.
Now I can see what is happening, there is something really interesting, a thing peculiar for me, a process which teaches me how not to necessarily live, but how to think and cling on a thought for a certain period of time, there it is, my thought, in the air, shading the darkly colored room which I am sharing a with a half-dead, horribly still woman in a white dress.
The room suddenly became thick, it turned into a form of an insulting scenario, like a puzzle I've been trying to solve for weeks, my thoughts had vanished but the numb-blank feeling was still there.
I bit my hand, I bit it until it bled, just to confirm my belief that I am alive.
I was raided by the sting of my own bite.
I was there, in a room with two people including myself and a half-dead woman in a white dress.
