String Theory

Surrounded by a crowd
that i have no desire to fit in.
One , just one little Thread
connecting me to the World.

It sings to me in my loneliness
the melody so harmonic,
like Strings from a Harp

Yet i remain human,
the Strings turn into an umbilical Cord
seeding humanity in me.

I care not for you allure,
i was charmed from the start
as if from a hypnotist's Pendulum

My beautiful, beautiful String
coiling arround me,
my Serpent of Passion.

Devoured by you
i bathe in your light
Radiant Sun Shaft

Hypnotised i stand
aloof in a world of Wonders
descend upon me

I welcome you

my Glorious Noose

Alchemical Insecurities

What is it that i am looking for?
Excitement, Surprise?
Is expectation the real enemy of truth and reality?
... of Dreams?
... of Escapism?
Will i ever Learn? (Do i even want to?)
Don't say a word.. don't Jinx it.
As if spoken words are proverbial Daggers hurled at the end-result, killing it.
Work and Pray.. the Alchemist's Mantra.
Countless times before i spoiled the results and it all blew on my face!
You stupid man.. Heard a couple of smart words spoken in a tender tone.
You hypocritical idiot! You can't make a golem with only a toe, a finger and a voice.
You need so much more.. so much more that you can't simply replace the rest of the equation with mere "Expectation". That doesnt result in "Human Being" it only results in Chimera.
Human transmutation , however, always ends in error, hubris and , ultimately, Pain and Regret.

Substitute For Love

Impossible? Perhaps not.
Viable? Most probable.
The hunter in me is smiling contently. I suffered fools, so gladly.
I just needed another perspective , that's all.
What did Brian say? "An immitation of hetero"
Not quite my love. The need, the hunger, drove me into them shackles. I sated it. I hurt him..and him.. and him... Victims, aren't we all?
Where do i stand now? Another jaded smile, another broken carcass, another meal for the King, so who is this then?
A substitute for love. Ah! How beutiful this one is. Do i care how long this one lasts before it turns corrupt? Not.... really. Does that make me cynical, a bastard, soulless, damaged?
The good doctor discribed me as emotionally crippled.
The bad boyfriend, as a fraud.
The ugly ex, as a monster.

It matters not to me. As long as i am intact. Flinging my arrows uncarring of the wounded.
Dear brother how spot on you were back then.
I deserve all that's coming my way and by god i battled hard for all of them.
I am as certain , as i am that i will ultimately lose that battle.

All it matters is that i am content, gratefull and smiling.
Yes! The Beast grows tired of it. I am so eerily eager to see what the Piano will have me dancing again.

For the time being.. i sleep with my feast.
I hope the sound of my licking my lips won't wake him up.

... et Spiriti Sancti.

Fingers flowing in incandecent mist, sparks and motes of fire , shrouded in tendrils of smoke.
Touching and feeling the essence that is the fire-to-be. Temperature is already high, eyes shut drying up from the heat.
Inwards movement, hands folding, Mist following the gesture bringing the burning specs closer , coalescing into a bright core near the sternum.
Outwards stretch, arms unfolding trailing oposite directions- smoke following suite forming a blackened whirl flaked with fiery motes. The core sends out thin rings of condensed heat pushing sparks and smoke outwards, four , six then eight same centered rings are shot in vertical and paralel directions outlining the human form , encasing it in a transparent sphere.
Body movement, spiral. Hands outstreched. Gravity loses it's grip, as matter transmogrifies into energy. Surrounding objects are light aflame but maintain structural bonds, yet losing physical mass. Everything floats, linned in tongues of fire, pulsing with heat and bright light.
Golden light, in fiery orange tinctures, streaked with silver smoke. Walls pulsing with heat,paint pealing and setting of in to the air before it desolves in motes of fire, stone liquifying grasping desperately in it's surroundings.
Head pushed back, hair crowning upwards, arms outstreched hands facing the welcoming sky. Legs reaching for the ground, toes not touching earth. A heavenly burning Nirvana that offers room for only the spirit. Cleansed of all other elements. Purified by limning flames.
The core suspended in front of the solar plexus sending out rings of fire pulsing in time with the heart. A steady slow tempo.
Breathe in one last breath, audiable drawing in smoke and dots of light. Holding in the remnant of mortality, an anchor to all that is human. The threshold between elemental and mundane.
Reaching the peak of the convergeance , release it all in a flux.
Drained of all color and substance everything in a few meters turns pure white, pulsating solid fire.
The first sensation of recovery comes from the toes as they touch the ground once again fingers following, then knees.

His eyes open and flash white before returning to a mortal shade of hazel. The first exhalation is smoked and then it's pure air again. Temperature downgraded to normal. Everything is now bleached white and smoothed. Nothing charred, only purified.

.. alarm clock rings.. time to go to work again.

The Careless Whisper

Time can never mend the careless whispers of a good friend
To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind there's no comfort in the truth pain is all you'll find

I feel so unsure as I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor as the music dies, something in your eyes calls to mind the silver screenand all its sad good-byes
I'm never gonna dance again guilty feet have got no rhythm though it's easy to pretend I know you're not a fool
Should've known better than to cheat a friend and waste the chance that I've been given so I'm never gonna dance again the way I danced with you
Time can never mendthe careless whispers of a good friend to the heart and mind ignorance is kind there's no comfort in the truth pain is all you'll find
I'm never gonna dance again guilty feet have got no rhythm though it's easy to pretend I know you're not a fool
Should've known better than to cheat a friend and waste this chance that I've been given so I'm never gonna dance again the way I danced with you
Never without your love
Tonight the music seems so loud I wish that we could lose this crowd Maybe it's better this way We'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say
We could have been so good together We could have lived this dance forever
But noone's gonna dance with me
Please stay And I'm never gonna dance again guilty feet have got no rhythm though it's easy to pretend I know you're not a fool
Should've known better than to cheat a friend and waste the chance that I've been given so I'm never gonna dance again the way I danced with you
(Now that you're gone) Now that you're gone
(Now that you're gone) What I did's so wrong
that you had to leave me alone

The Urge.

Half lights, smoke, sweat the musk of a city.
Summer heat reflected from concrete at night. Distant car horns and homemade rabble, bickering and the sound of cutlery and pots.
The reverberation of a thousand feet stomping the asphalt. Soles of shoes taping on damp cement, pieces of clothes and accessories dragging on the street. A jacket thrown on a garbage bin, a piece of chain from somebodies back pack hitting a lamp post. Random objects hitting the floor, plastic metal and cloth. The occasional oomph of a human rushing to meet the ground. Countless panting breaths, the brushing of skin as they try to outrun each other.
Lips half open, dry and cracked, rimmed with sweat. Hair being tossed in a matted mass. Fingers gripping arms to hold for dear balance. Hands pushing against flesh and bones, covered in dust turned to mud with sweat, trickling down shoulder blades, sternums and necks. Muscles rippling underneath. Straining to keep up with the momentum.
Eyes wide and frenzied fixed on nothing at all. The look but a reflection of the things to come. More concrete to stampede on. More people to push through. Obstacles to overcome or simply topple over. Nothing holds meaning to their eyes.
The occasional puddle of water to be stepped upon and splash it's contents numerous times until it's spread over too much concrete, asphalt shoes and feet. Sweaty hand prints left on the formerly reflective surfaces of cars, shop windows, trash cans and traffic lights. Smears of blood on building walls, corners or telephone booths.
Civilizations' end, rationality's demise, nothing left but The Urge.
In a poorly lit roof top she was smiling a yellow smile that reeked of something burning.

The Little Man.

I saw you, Little Man.
On your days of rest and leisure, Little Man.
I was there, Little Man, stupid man.
I served you well, i was your go-to man, Little Man.
Silvered and lathered, smothered and pampered you are, Little Man.
With your wife and child, an even littler man, Little Man.
You are an animal, not a man. Little man.
A beast more primitive than the sea, the one you bathe in, Little Man, swimming man.
After the distinction of light and dark, came the Hunger and you are It. Little Man.
The reason i didn't want to touch you was fear, not courtesy. Little Hungry Man.
You gave me disgust and contempt for you and your kin. I never want to serve you again
Little Man.