Talking to one's self [Part 3]
The moon was at his most disgusting figure. He shone yellow and it hid behind the heavy cloaks of the dark clouds. You tried to reach and grab him. You wanted to touch him so badly and dreamt that someday, you would make him into a pendant which you’d wear on the day of your funeral. But he was too far for you frail arms to reach. He hung in heaven while you were standing flat on the desolate plane of earth and dirt. And the moon laughed at you for the unforgivable failure you had committed.
The cold wind of winter season greeted you a good evening and he carried you in his arms, away from your resting ground. He enveloped you in a tight embrace and squeezed your chest until it became nothing but a rock filled with nothing.
At that moment, you thought you were flying, and you extended your arms once more to reach the moon who was slowly becoming bigger and bigger at every passing second.
Another try. And another. But your hands seemed to only pass through the delicate corpse of the moon. Things such as touching an invincible celestial body was impossible, rather, forbidden.
And he laughed at you again for the unforgivable failure that you were. So you cried, with your eyes wide open in the midnight darkness that surrounded you. Your tears became the rain that warped the serenity of the world on the thirteenth monsoon. The wind loosened his grip and you were unlocked from his cold hands. Soon, you found yourself flying down an abyss of broken dreams, like that blue bird which plunged down a spring of rubbish darkness.
To its death.
You landed on earth like a beautiful angel coming from a ceiling of bright lights and ethereal music. You were back to where you came from, and realized that everything was a dream, simply a product of your tiny head’s imagination.
You realized that you were trapped in a world filled with make-up plots and stories.
And that world was trapped inside the box of uncertain destinies and paths.
And that plane was trapped between the doorways of good and evil, of luck and misfortune, of happiness and loneliness.
And those doorways were trapped inside the glass globe of the wonderful mind belonging to the girl standing at your position. And she looked at you with red eyes borrowed from a devil.
So you killed her on the thirteenth monsoon. You bathed in her blood under the yellow light of the laughing moon. You kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. You burned her and buried her ashes in the graveyard of endless nowhere. You awarded yourself with a moon pendant you took from her neck earlier.
Oh how you loved it.
[note] The moon and the wind referred to as ‘he’ is intentional. Also the redundant and’s are intentional.
The cold wind of winter season greeted you a good evening and he carried you in his arms, away from your resting ground. He enveloped you in a tight embrace and squeezed your chest until it became nothing but a rock filled with nothing.
At that moment, you thought you were flying, and you extended your arms once more to reach the moon who was slowly becoming bigger and bigger at every passing second.
Another try. And another. But your hands seemed to only pass through the delicate corpse of the moon. Things such as touching an invincible celestial body was impossible, rather, forbidden.
And he laughed at you again for the unforgivable failure that you were. So you cried, with your eyes wide open in the midnight darkness that surrounded you. Your tears became the rain that warped the serenity of the world on the thirteenth monsoon. The wind loosened his grip and you were unlocked from his cold hands. Soon, you found yourself flying down an abyss of broken dreams, like that blue bird which plunged down a spring of rubbish darkness.
To its death.
You landed on earth like a beautiful angel coming from a ceiling of bright lights and ethereal music. You were back to where you came from, and realized that everything was a dream, simply a product of your tiny head’s imagination.
You realized that you were trapped in a world filled with make-up plots and stories.
And that world was trapped inside the box of uncertain destinies and paths.
And that plane was trapped between the doorways of good and evil, of luck and misfortune, of happiness and loneliness.
And those doorways were trapped inside the glass globe of the wonderful mind belonging to the girl standing at your position. And she looked at you with red eyes borrowed from a devil.
So you killed her on the thirteenth monsoon. You bathed in her blood under the yellow light of the laughing moon. You kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. You burned her and buried her ashes in the graveyard of endless nowhere. You awarded yourself with a moon pendant you took from her neck earlier.
Oh how you loved it.
[note] The moon and the wind referred to as ‘he’ is intentional. Also the redundant and’s are intentional.