“Midnight high and my demons nigh. For in this, the crossover hour, at the crossroads, I sold my cold soul for the coal to fuel my hellfire. The celestial curse for us, mere terrestrials.”, the Reverend preached to his brethren.
Passers-by seem to be in synchrony to the symphony of my genius. In euphoric phantasmagoria, my demons manifest amongst them. A majestic choreography orchestrated by me. And the angel, that albino boy; he arches his spine in climax to the romance of my piano concerto. Then, my train halts and so does my hallucination.
The cemetery had a quiet beauty in summertime daylight as a solider, in his coffin, marched amidst tears and mournful trumpets. Beside him, his weeping widow, beside herself with grief, and the weeping willows, whistling wistfully beside her.
One early Sunday morning, I stood by my window listening to rainfall on the road and river. The ambiance had a quiet audience up to the horizon. The wet streets glistened from yellow streetlights and amber traffic-lights and my eyes followed the raindrops catch light on the black granite. I was held in a trance by its golden dance. And hypnotised by footsteps of raindrops and anchored sailboats, I felt and slept like I was the only one in the whole world.
I am an angel with demons, liquor whore - liquid cure for my horrors. Little girl, what’s the matter? It’s the nuclear confusion, the cochlear combustion… But I enjoy it. One cannot escape the mind after all. And by one I mean me, and you too if you so wish. Two of us can only begin a love affair amidst the chaos. An orgy with the infinite holy trinity. Do you understand any of this at all? I don’t.