[Untitled]


Let me tell you something about her: she did nothing besides standing still

In the dark corridor, right beside the closed bathroom door

Everyone else around her was fast asleep.

Her thoughts were wild horses across the lavender fields;

She was an acrobat, dressed in hand-me-down deep purple

Who only knew to tame the old crossroads of her blue heart.

Let me tell you something about her: she was holding the universe with the apples of her cheeks

She breathed and a thousand new meteorits danced in sync around the newly-born suns,

She shook her head and the Milky Way fell on its left side, shivering with terror,

Her index finger was moving slowly, alongside the edge of the red skies of the East.

Let me tell you something about her: she was his silent guardian,

Made of young flesh and black bones that ignite during the season of the trade winds.

She was an anonymous angel with the corners of her mouth reaching the devil’s foot.

She slipped during the supernova rain and rode on the back of Lovejoy for 3 hours straight,

Reaching his house in the middle of a back-said prayer carried over by the unmoving waves of the Dead Sea.

She watched him sail the waves of his tormented sleep and moved her hand in zig-zag across his sweaty forehead where the spectres were fighting a battle long lost.

Let me tell you something about her: she was standing still, carbon dripping from her damp eyelashes

Her lungs filled with all the breaths she never took

Her atoms full of him, a spider-web starting from her hollow collarbones reaching all the way

Through the 90 degress arch his spine made with death.

She was standing still, eyes closed, heart-crossed, blood-emptied.

Let me tell you something about her: she was the last spectre of a dying earth

She lightly breathed upon him and sucked all the drained drops of life and strength

She kissed him goodnight and swiftly opened the gate which led to the underworld.

The Lady in Red marched in front of the troups welcoming the final chapter.

Let me tell you something about her: she was the first-born daughter of Lucifer

And she was beginning to walk towards her promised throne of horror and despair.

She was full of life, yet she only exhaled the inexorable scent of metallic death.

She looked him straight in the eye, yet she never truly saw him,

She never saw his angles and the complex non-Euclidean geometry which makes up

The whole of his body under the watch of the faithful fair maid of Saturn.

Her eyes were made not for seeing, but for stripping;

Her lips were made not for kissing, but for stealing;

Her whole being was made not for life, but for eternal sleep.

Let me tell you something about her: I was there, I watched it all through my broken spyglass.

She came and took him down, she raised her full glass of green-blood mess

And drank for the arrival of the polar night in the middle of September.

The air became tense and in the midst of the southern angst I finally knew the end was near.

 

 

 

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