And how can someone expect. For the words to come to his mind. To write. To You. Tonight. Isnt it ironic? I dont hurt anymore. I dont think. I pushed all the Memories one by one. Until the last one. I strangled them over the void of my mind like crippled, deformed babies. I heard the air hissing in their throats And their throats were beautifully, so beautifully soft, save that, within, I could feel the slippery chords of their -my- life. And this I crushed. This I could crush. What bliss! Oh what bliss at last, what satisfaction! My fingers were tangled around their tiny crooked necks. And they tightened the grip. And my nails were thrust into their flesh .and a few drops of crimson blood run. I strangled them one by one, carefully. The beautiful and the ugly all the same. But the beautiful ones with more hatred. And I laughed. I LAUGHED. Everything beautiful has to die. Because incomparable beauty can be found in unbearable ugliness , in reciprocal pain. I strangled the little bastards and threw them down in the precipice. I didnt even care to watch them crush against the rocks. One or two got stuck somewhere and screamed and howled. Doesnt matter. Something to haunt you is not bad after all. Until it dies. Until it goes to hell as well... And I picked your pieces one by one. Picked the pieces that fell off your decomposing body carefully off the floor of my house. Pieces of rotting skin and nails from the carpet, and your cut-off fingers in the sink. Your dislodged bones, your excrements from the corners of the living room. Your dried semen off my bed. I put them in a box to return them to you. I washed the walls. I washed the mirrors. I threw black veils on them . So that they wont project your reflected image to eternity. I filled the bathtub with bleach. With bleach and acid and sank myself in it. Oh and I burned and burned and melt away. Until it was enough and when my bones started to show, shiny and glowing and white, I emerged. I dont feel a thing now. But I am overcome by terror in the thought of closing my eyes and going to sleep. If you come back...WHAT THEN? How am I gonna get away? Sleep. Nails of sin, nails thick like Christs, hammer your betrayed dreams on your eyes at nights. The torture you have to undergo until dawn. You wake up in the middle of the night and you speak strange tongues which, neither you, nor the palate of your mouth know who wedged them between your teeth in your darkest hours. Broken. My arms. And my heart is half. In my lungs a gaping hole. However deep I might breathe, its not enough. I scrape insanely the grey , greasy dirt from the depths of my soul.
From vomit , blood and semen . Ancient,dried salt from tears that overflowed. The walls got yellow and chipped off from the smoke of the cigarettes that stuffed this room. This nausea that has become a habit nowadays, every time you Remember yourself.
You. Yes. You. Little. Miserable. Bitter. Unable to smile. A Liar. A Whore. Like life. You. Me. Me. ....oh well...one day they're gonna shun me from this list...i see it coming.... sorry for spoiling anyone's mood... truly yours, joan _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+