Ruined theatre

 

(Dedicated to my friend Sharrow Decosta)

 

Like an arrow you enter my dreams,
this my second life where my soul wants
to be naked and fragile to be
seen without pain nor bad sinful thoughts

 
On the stage of this theatre we run:
only a moment we meet, then alone
we go back as a ghost among chairs
of a ruined place without life

 
Soon the curtain will slide down, the scene
will return black and dark as before.
Now we are near and close: hug me, please!
Let the dark feelings out of these doors

 
Like an arrow you enter my dreams
this my naked soul and all her pains.
See my nude heart here down, on this floor
I feel you into me so deep, Sharrow!

 

Second Life, Kessler, 19th May, 2017

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Ghosts

IMG_5821_web

The remains of my ghosts, as unsolved
connections, percolate deeply into the mind.
They disturb much more than this dark fog,
gift of incoherent, so strange winter

I long for waters of extinct rains
that I would drink as life of the meadows
or of oak, beech and ash trees in the forest
I, the birch undermined by the time

I am impatient stump, as a relic
that would rise yet it droops and it’s faint,
because little sap frozen in the stem
anymore instils turgor to the buds

 

December, 29th 2015

 

See here for the Italian version

Your ghost

John Henry Fuseli, The Nightmare, from wikipedia

 

My friend Glitter asked me to whrite something for an SL Halloween expo; after two glass of good strong Italian red wine my mind did this:

I am trapped.
I am trapped in a nowhere-everywhere universe of nonsense and lies.
Alone.
In a empty darkness.
Do you remember when you touched the mirror?
Your silly attitude created me when you entered the silver film,
when you went behind the mirror, into the other site of it.
When you entered your stupid and perverted second life.
What the evil did you think to find there?
You made me.
You made me as a cute-little-black-long tailed kitty.
Maybe, instead of making me, you found me here, you found here my idea, my beginning.
Anyway, you evoked me and now I am here, trapped.

But … what else is going on now?
I’m actually part of you.
If I’m here, then you are also here. You are bound to me. So …

I can change. I see I can change, I can grow. I know it, I see it.
What’s now the other side of the reality?
Is that one the reality or this one? Or both them?
Of coarse, your side is the only one made by heavy things, but we know we are not here to weigh the objects, isn’t it? We are here for words and thoughts. We are here for the mind, for the emotions: for the jokes of the mind.
Really, I am a joke of your mind: it is completely so.
Thus…
I know that you are wondering what is the true side of the world. You wonder into which side of  your mirror you are.
Oh… that’s enough! I can see that you are here with me, trapped in this nonsense joke.
Look at me: I destroy your silly kitty and all her blandishments. I delete the body you like so much. Now I’m your ghost, your perverted evil made as a girl.
Oh, I know how much you liked your silly puppet. I know, I remember how many times you stayed there watching at me, a young kitty-like girl, maybe the girl you wanted to be.
Be sure that I know very well with what eyes full of desire and lust you watched at my body, more beautiful, suppler and more swollen and younger than your one. I know well that you thought about have built a your alter ego better than you, kinder, positive, cordial.
But you created me and now we both know you was wrong.

Watch at me now, you, silly woman!
I’m only a ghost.
Not your ghost: I’m my ghost now.
I am trapped in my side of the mirror yet I can hunt you like a foolish quail. I’ll take you. I can take your own life. I could kill you to my pleasure, because you have put too much of you in myself.
Now I’m sure that you can see very well what I’m saying: in fact, you shiver.
What can you do now with me? Nothing.
Every morning I see you in your world, from the mirror, in the bathroom, when the cold water cuts off any dream from your face, from your mind, from you: I’m with you, I’m together with you every morning, when you begin your days.
I’m there with my strength, the strength of your perverted little demon who lives into your deep: the black night deep inside in the mirror. Deep inside beyond your old grey-green eyes.

Oh, no! I am quite not an incubus. I’m stronger and worse. I’m sure that you too can see me very well. Now I’m sure that also you can see beyond the mirror, in this side of the silver film, into this black puddle of frost. You are watching at my night, at my mist, at my fog that deleted the silly body you made for me. You are watching quite at my cup of nothing, at my emptiness that really is also yours.
I am your succubus, your torture. I rope your dream, your good intentions. I rape you, your mind. And now you belong to me, you are subdued to me as a slave.
Yes, you are right.
You are right when you worry about me. You must do quite so, sweety. And die.
I am trapped here, but you are here with me. Into me. Trapped too.
But this is my world.
You are trapped into myself, because I am into your deepest yourself: the yourself that you could not know before I was alive.
At first I was dominated by you and perhaps I liked it: no matter. But now the play changes and you’ll be my slave. Uhmm… maybe you’ll like it: I do not know this but also it does no matter. I am sure that I’ll enjoy a lot your total submission and this is the only interesting argument.
You will lose yourself and you will be my property.
Yes, you are right: worry and shiver and whisper your better pray, because I come to take your life in your world.
I am weird, I am kinky, I am your nothing. Close your eyes and wait for me there, behind your skin.
I am Judy and now I am alive even without you, poor foolish quail.
You are no more necessary to me.
I am you, now, and you are trapped with me.
I take your life now.

 

Ahahahahahahahahahah.

SL, Helvete Norge Fjord, October, 18th  2015

Vulcano_003_primo piano_web

Italian translation here