Ugly You, That’s Me.
Posted on January 30, 2009
I walk into a pitch dark room
I cant not see anything in front of me..
except for this very bright light which is shining on this solitary table with its companion chair.
Somehow it beckons me to go near simply with its strangely magnetic presence.
Stroking its strong texture, little bumps gently massages my palm.
I sit down.
My eyes are drawn towards the centre of the table.
There is a blue patterned china plate with a single blood-red apple lying crookedly
Very smooth looking with exotic green patterning decorating its body.
Not too big, not too small. Just nice to lie on my palm.
It lies like a small trusting baby in my palm.
Darling, take a bite of this beautiful apple you have in your hand
A silky smooth velvet voice out of nowhere
Heavy hesitation hangs in the suddenly-suffocating air.
Why.
Because it is in your hand
Why must I listen to you
Because you opened your doors to me.
It is not true.
Yes. It is. How else would your heart be still black like this room.
It is impossible. Absolutely impossible.
Pieces of the apple lay scattered at my feet
If I could describe, it was my blood spilled.
I’m alone. All alone with my blood on me.
I’m dirty with all my sins covering me like a cloak
God, where are you? Get me out of this terrible prison. I’m suffocated.
Storms are raging, the wind is roaring vulgarities
He is not here.
My ear drums hurts with the laughter still echoing everywhere.
No. It is not true. Everything is a facade.
Help me please.
Where are you, my salvation?
I walk into a pitch dark room
I cant not see anything in front of me..
except for this very bright light which is shining on this solitary table with its companion chair.
Somehow it beckons me to go near simply with its strangely magnetic presence.
Stroking its strong texture, little bumps gently massages my palm.
I sit down.
My eyes are drawn towards the centre of the table.
There is a blue patterned china plate with a single blood-red apple lying crookedly
Very smooth looking with exotic green patterning decorating its body.
Not too big, not too small. Just nice to lie on my palm.
It lies like a small trusting baby in my palm.
Darling, take a bite of this beautiful apple you have in your hand
A silky smooth velvet voice out of nowhere
Heavy hesitation hangs in the suddenly-suffocating air.
Why.
Because it is in your hand
Why must I listen to you
Because you opened your doors to me.
It is not true.
Yes. It is. How else would your heart be still black like this room.
It is impossible. Absolutely impossible.
Pieces of the apple lay scattered at my feet
If I could describe, it was my blood spilled.
I’m alone. All alone with my blood on me.
I’m dirty with all my sins covering me like a cloak
God, where are you? Get me out of this terrible prison. I’m suffocated.
Storms are raging, the wind is roaring vulgarities
He is not here.
My ear drums hurts with the laughter still echoing everywhere.
No. It is not true. Everything is a facade.
Help me please.
Where are you, my salvation?