“A
friend of mine, the most innocuous dreamer who ever lived, once set a
forest on fire to see, as he said, if it would catch as easily as people
said. The first ten times the experiment was a failure; but on the
eleventh it succeeded all too well.”
- Charles Baudelaire, 'Paris Spleen'
The night breeze with the same soothing smell of lilies
Unchanged for hundreds of years. and he thought it's just another end of journey
What a soothing breeze. Just the feast and the dancing figures around the hall smells of rotten flesh, and gold
Nobleman's prostitution, and yet uncompared to a lily's charm
He has watched her for hours. Watching her watching him
As if he is an secret garden full of black lilies
But I am the fleeting dream guarding it. Don't you see? He whispered
Such a beautiful petal. I have seen it before. a petal like this...
dance. and when the music is there and it sounds this real
and. i'll be there (taking some) of your tender tragic and all yours.
A child touched the petal that fell gently
the same heart break. the same saddened expression
Such a beautiful lie. I have heard it before. a lie like this...
'Back to the soils, where you were born, and never come back to this world again...'
“Soupçonner
qu'un rival est aimé est déjà bien cruel, mais se voir avouer en détail
l'amour qu'il inspire à la femme qu'on adore est sans doute le comble
des douleurs.”
- Julien Sorel, 'Le Rouge et le Noir'
Am I
Lost in time?
the self under the name of senses always kept her own frailty
he guarded her because her existence reminds of him in the depth of his emotions flesh and blood is still there awaken
timeless
he has always been tired of existing in both of their worlds
maybe another him imprisoned in that surface no longer willing to defend that broken tower
existing without shackles of time or is eternity is a promise to time herself?
he seeks for his own answer maybe its where beauty lays he sneers to himself
love and hate, both extremities of emotions held for what's real he worshiped her own philosophy
the perfect reflection stares back from the tiny scars of the mirroring surface
but it's not him inside the dead pupils of hers
'who are you? why inside these pupils I cannot find myself?'
'you and I, are existences inside the similar shell. and yet you and I, are not the same.'
he suddenly remembered, the memories were left inside that moment, which was forgiven
it was left there
yes, all were existing
she once wished she could smother all when the baby leaves grown
without blooming
why the heart strings were pulled, from blooming
to withering
memories and wishes
her mind still filled with illusions and silhouettes
The Caucus Race and a Long Tale
The sea of tears becomes crowded with other animals and birds that have
been swept away by the rising waters. Alice and the other animals
convene on the bank and the question among them is how to get dry again.
The mouse gives them a very dry lecture on William the Conqueror. A
Dodo decides that the best thing to dry them off would be a Caucus-Race,
which consists of everyone running in a circle with no clear winner.
Alice eventually frightens all the animals away, unwittingly, by talking
about her (moderately ferocious) cat.
'I've told the Dandelion.' The lone petal smiled back. Stepping off the swing blessed with whispers of Lilies, she wished to be somewhere else, someone else.
'Since the beginning of beginning, you were already the last of last.'
The Hatter's riddleThe Mad Hatter explains to Alice that he and the March Hare are always having tea because, when he tried to sing for the Queen of Hearts at her celebration, she sentenced him to death for "murdering the time," but he escapes decapitation. In retaliation, Time (referred to as a "Him") halts himself in respect to the Hatter, keeping him and the March Hare stuck
at 6:00 forever. As such, he exclaims "Tea Time!" at random occasions.
The tea party, when Alice arrives, is characterized by switching places
on the table at any given time, making short, personal remarks, asking
unanswerable riddles and reciting nonsensical poetry, all of which
eventually drive Alice away. He appears again as a witness at the Knave of Hearts' trial, where the Queen appears to recognize him as the singer she sentenced to death, and the King also cautions him not to be nervous "or I'll have you executed on the spot."
In
the chapter "A Mad Tea Party", the Hatter asks a notable riddle: "Why
is a raven like a writing desk?" When Alice gives up, the Hatter admits
he does not have an answer himself.
Garden of forgetfulness whispers another tale
crimson spiral clock tower tolls twelve
gathering roses collector of pieces of a puppet-play scattered on the red carpet
dance hall. chess board and maze black. white. black. white.
nowhere the sight of that broken knight
'No. We'll never meet a second time.'
'I am purified. I am sanctified. Every single night.'
Inside the fold of your dress
You'll find another piece of missing puzzle in the melody
Wings enchained to tenderness of a throne
by the waltz shaped spiderweb
Dance deeper into the castle of illusion Three doors standing in the hall way III, Red Queen slumbers in her gilded cage. Shh. VI, inside the rusty cages whispers the papilionidae XII, the Jester and his rainbow kissed circus fingers tracing alone the frame, the breathing portrait smiled
'Where is that secret tarot you'll slip into my pocket?'
'With either key you'll find your way. Through either door you'll surely return.'
that dream drifted into the place adored. far too much and quickly. never wanting to wake up
That moment, I’m genuinely and relentlessly obsessed. imprisoned inside the castle with happiness
memories be found reclining languid and devastated inside my eyes, lingering inside nothing
discover a new land and allowing my heart to singularly, quietly. Kind of break
thinking about too many silently clashing and crashing shards of shades of shapes of everything
flowing downward into the erasing enclosure of pure madness
'HaPPy Unbirthday. My beloveD.'
flowing upwards into the bright blank absolution of pure time
into all the crushing beauty of tomorrow
it’s the search and seeking, the chase and promise and hope and wanting
The wagon goes deeply, instinctually, continually and still.
every taste bright and brave solitary and real gentle and genuine tremendous and true
To be there that moment, mean it always, taking care from the beginning moment, taking care endlessly, of no one else ever
resemblance blinks back in the other side of looking glass
fingertips that longing to touch
the story never gets told until another hundred years can't lace the strings back to rose a second time
tap. tap. taping your heels
the celestral lock opens
'Good night. Tranquillity awaits on the carousel vanishes with every sunrise.'
