Cherry
I’m lying in a hot bath with my head stuck under a stream of cold water.
Good contrast... I like contrasts.
But to tell the truth, it simply helps fight headache.
Sometimes.
The candle is almost over, which means that soon I’ll have to get out of the
bath and try to go on living.
It’s so funny.
But I’m so sick of lying.
I lie to everybody. And especially to myself.
I can smell sandal. And lavender. And something else. I guess I lied to someone
that I loved sandal and he or she presented me these aromatic sticks.
I light them in the bathroom and I cannot breathe. However, I don’t want to
breathe. I just smoke.
I love the smell of cherry. But I have sandal burning and I’m dizzy.
I love to take water in my mouth and then push in out slowly.
In the light of the candle the water looks like blood.
A little stream of blood oozing from my mouth.
This excites me.
This reminds me of you...
But oh, the headache!
I hang one leg over the edge of the bathtub. The rosy skin dives into a colder
air.
So good...
Hot bath, candlelight, cigarette in my mouth... What a wonderful life. There’s a
razor in the drawer to my right. What a wonderful picture. That is the way to
pass away – beautifully. And let these stupid philosophers tell you death is
never beautiful. Death is beautiful, folks. It’s simply that you cannot realize
how beautiful it is.
There is only one problem here: I’m not going to die.
At least tonight.
Tonight I am going to remember you.
I don’t know why I think of blood and black sheets when I think of you. And a
little stream of blood running down the chin. Down the neck. Down the
shoulder...
Black sheets... Not satin ones.
I don’t like satin.
And wings...
Black wings.
Grotesque?
They suit you so well, these black wings. And blood, too...
Such red blood...
I want to touch it with my lips. Touch it with my finger and draw signs that
only you and I can understand.
And only black sheets from horizon to horizon.
Black wings, red blood, white skin...
I must’ve gone mad...
And you painted a sun on my belly.
With my own blood.
Cigarettes end so quickly, don’t you think?
I suddenly feel so cold... Because you’ll never embrace me again.
For I’ve simply imagined you. I invented you.
As well as your – my? – world.
I smell sandal.
Water looks like blood in the candlelight.
I’m so cold.
Do you believe me?
I’m sick of lying.
I just want to be by your side.
I know how to love and how to hate.
I love contrasts.
I love white over black...
I love to feel your breath. I love to hug you and dive into an ocean of your
warmth.
And lick the little stream of blood running down your chin...
Pain and joy.
I’m lying in a hot bath.
I’m so cold without you.
I’m so weary.
And I laugh to stay sane.
I believe in you like others believe in god. And I will believe in you for ever.
Death is not scary. It’s simply cold.
Simply...
I don’t like sandal.
And I hate lavender.
Your black wings are so soft...
Blood on my hands. Blood on your lips.
Blood to blood...
Only one single beating of the heart separates from the abyss.
Do you remember?
For I remember everything.
The sunset.
Blood on black sheets.
I remember things that never happened.
And I guess that’s why I’m so cold.
I want to open the window and scream until you come.
Guided by my scream. By the blood drops. By the smell of pain.
Come and take my melting soul while the water is still running and the lavender
is burning.
You’re not afraid... of being late?
For I’m not immortal.
But I’m not going to die...
At least tonight.
Because it doesn’t smell like cherry here.
Copyright by Trikster (2002).