I couldn´t stand up yet so I just rolled over on my back, staring up on an almost perfect sky, it was the morning after the mental disaster and I couldn’t resist to smile despite the pain that I still felt inside. Deep breaths of morning dew cleansed my soul, and made me high on something else than the booze and the drugs, or was it because I hadn’t eaten for five days straight, I couldn´t care less if I should be honest because it still gave me visions, what I saw was nature in its own permissions.
Clouds of spun sugar that dances in the sky, beautiful but fragile flakes of snow that sprinkles a green ground white, acrobats in feathers making daring patterns accompanied by the sound of leaves that rustles in perfect harmony with the water that sings lullaby’s for the melting ice that slowly dies. I lost track of time, I felt neither stress nor hurry. My soul was flying in the restless skies of mine looking down on the acres of forsaken sorrows that had always hunted my mind and I cried imaginary tears that landed on a ground of contradiction. Trees sprouted from the tears that I wept; they grew taller than the walls, higher than the marks on my chest, erasing the stigma of incest. And I breathe, with ice in my lungs; I turn memories to sculptures that erupt thru the grounds and with my insanity I demolish them one by one. I am the procreation of the modern world, a ghost of missed dreams and eternal grief, with the proclamation stamped to my rugged chest.
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