1

Sleeping pills.
One pill, two, three.
You scream silently for sleep, scream in dances macabre.
Scream, baby, because night has fallen.
But sleep wants to be begged and laughs in your face.
Laughs in your pretty face - by painting on your retinas the image
of a sad clown abandoned at the gate of an empty circus. It
laughs. And it reminds you of all those nights when you
desperately sought after sleep, to no avail. Your conscience
constantly being kept awake by the trauma of existence, the
memory of the rest of your life tattooed on your skin. The pain of
your spirit, sacrificed on the pedestal of time still is not enough to
open the gate Land of the Dead.
Someone stop the clock there! I do not want to feel that
fatigue, which grinds me ... And the clock? Who stops the clock? I
can still hear him cry ...
Tic-tac. Tic-tac tic ....
So you shut your eyes even harder, leaving the dreamy
darkness flow through the translucent veins of your eyelids. The
immortality of darkness brings you peace, stabilizing your
eyeballs, wildly running in sunken sockets. Your 3 rd eye, the one
you hide inside, is blocked - eternally watching the horror of your
thoughts, sipping every detail of every decadent memory.
Crushing your soul until it is reduce to a sole point.
A word. YOU!
A word from the Bible that you made and you recite blue lips
tattooed tears, tears that were dug in crimson rivers vulnerable
dermis. They dug salt mines rivers depression, you were exiled
from your own mind, totalitarian dictator with absolute law of
reality. To a thank you had to remove all the salt pasting it from
your body. But this is dry, you cut out the skin for better grip!
Oh! And it hurts! And it hurts so much that ...
Quiet.

Pain opened the gate hidden realm.

Recite it, word grave lips moistened with saliva are now
flavored drugs stolen life. Mantra invoking purpose.
Sleeping pills.
Four pills, a fist, a bottle.
And you start to choke. At first slowly, like the touch of a love
skin evening, but then increasing in intensity until every particle
of each nucleus of each cell, the whole body begins to explode,
releasing rhymes forgotten dreams, whose meaning mystic only in
death you can understand. Since the time of the encrypted
meaning divine truth in ceramic, forged creator of the remaining
words after Genesis.
(Carefully! Death pass you by! Kaleidoscope, stop wasting
time and enjoy the recollections final)
But you've already missed the climax of programmed selfdestruction of natural creator. You missed the chance to taste the
mist revealing. You're just a spectator detached sky melts and the
ago is raindrops that evaporate in the warm sun, reenacting the
sky.
Does this happen with your soul? Exalts him, astral
projection, over the corpse and look at it long earthen vessel that I
was home, as rots, regained ground? And he feels then? Feels
splash of water into the sky rain or splashes of water entering the
native land? Does he hopes to be dry wind endless and without
beginning and disappear forever? Or hopes to be worn by the
same wind to the roots of creation, giving life and earning thus
winged god?
Or maybe this is death. End end all thoughts and feelings.
Evaporation feelings in the chest cavity and exorcising memories
of synapses.
(Yes! Yes! Yes! That hope!)
- That hope?
(Scare to death!)