Castaway’s desires enticed me in the long winter nights, when the frozen branches of hollow trees caressed me softly, as they needed to approach my body.
The scent of burning candles devoured my enthusiasm and reminded me only of my hopeless misery. An everlasting burning desire swallowed my heart greedily like an invisible demon.
My insensitive inertia cut my soul into pieces and I let the devastation take advantage of me. I was born to be obliterated and perish an infinite times in endless ways.
Frenzy and turmoil were my loyal guides like flaming torches in the deepest darkness, and they fed me with their improper wisdom. I felt alive only because I embodied the distress that consumed me, leaving me in ashes.
Indeed, it was true that scorching passion sometimes might have let me fall in love with things that destroyed, but it was what penetrated every part of me.
I was made of fire and ashes surrounded by the cold mist of my dark chamber where dimly lit candles were my only merriment.
The sweet screams of the night recalled to me who I really was. Obsession carved my vein instilling a tainted poison instead of blood. I became a creature of the realm of shadows and wraiths.
I was consumed by my own fantasies and paranoid hallucinations. I had become the queen of madness among my lost memories of worlds to which I once belonged.
No mortal entity could see me because I was visible only to creatures of my own. There was no transformation in my staticity.
I could perceive the manifestation of my own tempest, like a tiny vessel in a stormy sea. Lost in the labyrinth of my dreams and dread, I was unable to discover the existence beyond time.
The great mystery of seeking my reflection in the immense mirror of life made me realise my nothingness. There was no end and there was no beginning but merely a vague silence clinging to me like luscious ivy.
Elisabetta Esther
