Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: desires

  • A Heart Of Stone

    A Heart Of Stone

    A heart of stone and blood was mine in the afterlife
    In my underworld abode full of evanescent masks and weeping phantoms
    A magic tower of spells touching the sky and the metallic moons
    Surrounded by soft clouds and dead trees

    Each mask whispered terrible secrets to me
    While smiling like court jesters inside the unbreakable walls of my castle
    A castle made of bones and blood of my enemies
    Beneath the shining firmament visited by the moons with many countenances

    I was the queen of the tragic world of pity and descend
    My decadence made a throne for me, carved in sorrow
    And there I lingered, dressed in shining sparkles and moonlight
    My gown was forged with threads of sighs and desires

    My gown was the manifestation of sighs and desires
    Eerie candles with their trembling flames cast light upon my visions
    Longings coiled like serpents made of smoke
    The walls wept decayed memories and each mirror was a doorway to arcane mysteries

    My absolute silence was a hymn to all I had lost
    The moons grieved the weight of my dismay
    An eternal ghost similar to myself waited for me beyond my crystal windows
    Ruins and beauty crowned me their sovereign

    My destiny was engraved in shadow and starlight
    I wandered in the labyrinth of forsaken fortunes
    I felt that the ancient soil trembled beneath my steps
    My heart was still carved from stone, seeking solace in vain

    I couldn’t break free from the chains of my own sorrow
    Although I reached for my reflection in the mirror
    And I knew that this was the fate I had chosen
    I knew I belonged to the occult underworld as an ethereal creature of darkness.
    Elisabetta

  • The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The realm of crimson roses was my treasure
    The secret haven of my desires for extravagant dreams
    The sweet and bewitching scent of the crimson roses drugged me
    It was like I drank the poison of oblivion for the very first time
    And I forgot my essence, bleeding my heart out

    I had visions and hallucinations like I was in an eternal sleep
    I saw beauty and magnificence in every corner of the castle of dreams
    Crying and smiling, I’ve finally found infinite delight in my abyss of anguish
    No pang could frighten me anymore because I was free
    Like a bird flying so high, it could touch the sky

    I belonged to the realm of crimson roses, and my heart was bound to it
    Through invisible chains made of love and death
    No slumber was necessary anymore because I was in a perpetual state of stupor
    Enchanted by a wicked spell cast over me, I could no longer abandon my state of captivity
    I was languidly mesmerised

    I surrendered to a throne of nightmares and dread
    It was made of crimson roses and adorned with long and sharp thorns
    So pointed were their punches pierced my heart
    Making me bleed until I became an ethereal creature of the night
    The pain freed me from fears and insecurities
    And I had not anymore a material body
    After all, I never lived in reality because I was born in the realm of nightmares and madness

    I knew not whether I dreamt or waked
    So dazed was my mind, I could not divine between vision and verity
    The realm of crimson roses could have been a spectre of my imagination
    Enchanting me like a nocturnal lullaby
    It suited my senses and hypnotised my heart
    A fleeting Utopia, born to wither with the dawn.
    Elisabetta

  • Betrayed By My Own Delusions

    Betrayed By My Own Delusions

    Betrayed by my own delusions
    I imagine being an ethereal fairy in my realm of dreams
    Where no creature could ever perturb my heart
    And I could cry out my soul

    Invane becomes my attempt to remain wise and sane
    Insanity and madness are my new names
    I forget my essence to transform into another myself
    And in this metamorphosis, I’m the ruler of my own kingdom

    Silence is my new favourite language
    I can touch flowers of emotions whose scent bewitches me
    I’m under the enchanting spell that I’ve cast upon myself
    I’m a turmoil of love and death, and no storm can prevent me from my intentions

    Quietude is my favourite to express myself
    I stare at my several reflections in the mirror of disquietude
    And I hide behind the magnificence of my exquisite garden of dreams
    Where I can fantasize about all my envisioned hallucinations

    Because I adore soaking in the fountain of everlasting passions
    As my limitless yearnings for decadence and dissolute emptiness increase at night
    During my delightful slumber
    When I’m betrayed by my own delusions

    Lying in my garden of lush and mesmerizing flowers
    I forget my name and my essence
    And I don’t feel any fear or concern about my fate
    Because I belong to the darkness and oblivion

    The eternal night with starred skies belongs to me
    I become an odd fairy floating freely among her flowers of decay
    I identify myself with decadence and extreme love
    Because I’m insane and a storm of passions

    Melancholy and sadness are my steady companions
    From which I can never separate myself
    And all my blooming flowers wither and fade away
    As soon as I weep for my long-lost innocence

    Betrayed by my own delusions
    I forget myself and I’m left bewildered
    Intoxicated with the poison of my own desires
    Lost in the turmoil of my madness and decadence.
    Elisabetta

  • The Dark Vault

    The Dark Vault

    The dark vault of death and desires was the hidden alcove where all the dreams became flowers of death.

    Desires painted the antique wallpaper in red blood, casting a spell on whoever dared to dream in a deadly slumber trapped in those walls.

    No light could have pierced the darkness that ruled that niche, not even the silvery moonlight, so shy to surrender to all that gloominess.

    Far away from every kind of imagination, desires, and dreams were nothing else than a beautiful aspect of death, with the only purpose of obliterating everything.

    No dream would have ever come true; instead, they would manifest the only final aim: the perpetual and endless destruction of all that was pure and magnificent.

    The dark vault was a mysterious crypt that existed only in a chimerical realm where time and space made no sense.

    The walls of this eldritch place were adorned with mirrors of betrayal, their shattered surfaces still gleaming.

    Each fragment reflected only the phantoms of lost expectancies and fractured souls. Every sliver concealed a story of despair, hissing in the silent domain of this dark vault.

    In the heart of this chasm stood a grave of glooms carved from obsidian and veined with crimson ichor.

    A tome rested upon the grave; its pages were inked with the anguish of a thousand forgotten souls.

    To read from this book meant to be bound to the vault forever, chained by the weight of desires turned to ash.

    Sobs crept as if disembodied voices murmured secrets of aggrieved existences. They wove around the corners like the Hydra, promising happiness and pleasure but delivering only torments.

    They unveiled tales of love turned decayed, of corrupted ambitions, of defiled innocence—all reduced to hollow vestiges of what could have existed.

    The darkness surrounded everything as a cruel reminder that no dream could ever flourish in such a place.

    Those naive dreamers who stumbled into this dark vault were ensnared by its grim allure. Their desires, once flamboyant and passionate, were siphoned away, leaving their spirits barren and their forms reduced to statues of cinders.

    These uncautious wanderers remained permanently frozen in agony, outstretching their arms and striving to seize dreams that were lost forever.

    The vault itself seemed like a living creature, feeding on the despair it provoked and expanding its labyrinth routes with each new prey.

    New grotesque chambers unfurled like malignant blooms, adorned with relics of devastated hearts and the skeletal relics of every aborted dream.

    There was no escape in this wicked vault, for it was an eternally cursed and tragic realm—a liminal space that swallowed all, reducing everything to echoes in its mournful symphony.

    The dark vault was the embodiment of the inevitable, where every dream, every desire, every spark of life came to die.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Luscious Desires

    Luscious Desires

    Luscious desires bloomed under the shape of extravagant flowers,
    In the nighttime darkness, they loved to glow in all their lush,
    A manifestation of boldness and imprudence.

    Every sculpture in this luscious garden was corrupted by the scent of triviality,
    A labyrinth where unaware visitors
    Usually delusional dreamers,
    Strolled, losing themselves.

    Time did not exist anymore,
    Luscious dreams became a habit
    During each slumber,
    In this realm of obsessions and paranoias.

    Sanity had lost its fight against madness,
    Irrational and luscious desires ruled this magical world,
    Where lavish and luxurious flowers bloomed in all their senseless beauty.

    Fountains of forgetfulness adorned the garden,
    Their waters shimmering under the starry night sky,
    Whispering promises of escape, yet luring only deeper into oblivion.

    Every path led to the same abyss,
    A void where reality blurred,
    And time became an abstract illusion,
    Lost in the haze of perpetual dusk.

    The air was rich with the fragrance of opulence,
    A perfume that clouded the slumbers,
    Numbing reason while igniting an insatiable longing
    For more—more dreams, more madness, more of the luscious delirium.

    Dreamers wandered endlessly,
    Their imprints were muffled by the overgrown vines,
    Each lost in their own reverie,
    Each captive to the garden’s seduction.

    No voice of reason could pierce this veil,
    For even the stars above had forgotten their course,
    Twinkling aimlessly in a sky that no longer cared for order.

    This occult realm, once rooted in the soil of desire,
    Had spiralled into a darkened utopia,
    Where all that was lush and beautiful
    Became the seeds of profound and inescapable chaos.

    Luscious desires flourished, wilder and more feral.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Garden of Nightmares

    The Garden of Nightmares

    The garden of nightmares was a wonder in the realm of fantasy,
    None could have touched the flowers of such an enchanting garden,
    Full of magic spells and arcane secrets.

    So oftentimes, it was the obsession of dreamers,
    Those who were aware of the potential dangers of such a magical place,
    Where thorns were welcome, and no scent would perfume its aura.

    Echoes of choirs singing ancient melodies revived that realm,
    A world that existed only in the imagination of the subconscious,
    A lonely and distant kingdom of beauty and torment.

    Not safe was incautiously confiding dark secrets in this hidden alcove,
    A garden whose meadows and trees were rooted in deception and betrayal,
    Leaving to luring desires the task of enchantment among luscious flowers.

    The garden of nightmares was a wonder in the realm of fantasy,
    None could have touched the flowers of such an enchanting garden,
    Full of magic spells and arcane secrets.

    So oftentimes, it was the obsession of dreamers,
    Those who were aware of the potential dangers of such a magical place,
    Where thorns were welcome, and no scent would perfume its aura.

    Echoes of choirs singing ancient melodies revived that realm,
    A world that existed only in the imagination of the subconscious,
    A lonely and distant kingdom of beauty and torment.

    Not safe was incautiously confiding dark secrets in this hidden alcove,
    A garden whose meadows and trees were rooted in deception and betrayal,
    Leaving to luring desires the task of enchantment among luscious flowers.

    In the garden of nightmares, each petal whispered secrets, wrapped in shadows’ embrace,
    While the moonlight danced softly, casting dreams on the night sky,
    In this garden, silence sang, a melody bittersweet.

    Where the vibrant hues of joy clashed with sorrow’s deceit,
    The aura was loaded with nostalgia; each whisper was a haunting sigh,
    Dreamers wandered through the maze, drawn to what might lie.

    Beneath the surface of beauty, where the heartbeats echoed slowly,
    A realm of contrasts, light and dark, where both delight and anguish grew,
    Yet, amidst the splendour, a red flag lingered near.

    For the siren call of yearning masked the lurking fear,
    Every bloom bore witness to a soul’s forsaken plight,
    Trapped within a labyrinth, lost between day and night.

    In the garden of nightmares, some dared to linger, intoxicated by the view,
    Chasing visions of a paradise where fantasies come true,
    But the thorns they had ignored drew blood from tender dreams.

    And this orchard of phantoms revealed its silent screams,
    Thus, tread lightly in the dusk where wishes intertwine,
    For within that haunting beauty lies a truth so hard to find.

    The garden, a mirror reflecting one’s innermost desires,
    A sanctuary of longings still set ablaze with fire.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Lost Desires

    Lost Desires

    In the chamber, dust collects on dreams,
    Lost desires whisper through the seams.
    Love letters yellowed with time,
    Words once fervent now seem like a crime.

    Fading photographs on the wall,
    Captured moments where shadows fall.
    Once vibrant hopes, now ghostly shades,
    Mirrors of deception cast enigmatic spells.

    A wilted rose waits in a forgotten vase,
    Each petal is a token of a vanished grace.
    Promises whispered beneath the moon,
    Now drift like leaves, a sorrowful tune.

    The clock chimes softly, a distant sound,
    Reminders of dreams buried underground.
    Longings linger like phantom’s sighs,
    What was lost cannot be denied.

    In the mirror’s reflection, a vacant stare,
    Lost desires haunt, a weight hard to bear.
    The heart aches for what might have been,
    For love unfulfilled, trapped in between.

    In empty passageways, the shadows play,
    Reminders of what slipped away.
    Conversations linger in the air,
    While silence echoes, a vacant glare.

    The fireplace crackles, its warmth long gone,
    Remembrances flicker like the break of dawn.
    Once shared moments, now bittersweet tales,
    As wandering through the halls of defeat.

    With every tear, a wish dissolves,
    In the abyss of sorrow, the heart twists.
    However, still, mortals chase those fading lights,
    In the hollow dark of endless nights.

    Lost desires bind like invisible chains,
    Each yearning whisper amplifies the pain.
    Finally, in the stillness, there lies a spark of darkness,
    A flicker of dismay lights up the eternity.

    Every heart mourns what’s lost to time,
    In the forsaken lore of lost desires,
    Among mysterious myths of love and longing,
    Forever undisclosed.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Beneath The Hollow Tree

    Beneath The Hollow Tree

    Beneath the hollow tree’s dark crown,
    Where twisted branches reached the sky,
    A whisper rustled softly down,
    From roots that mourned and never died.

    The earth around was cold and still,
    Where mournful spectres tended the ground,
    An ancient silence dreaded to fill,
    A world where lost souls were unbound.

    The gnarled trunk, both wise and worn,
    Held tales of curses, bittersweet,
    Of dreams lost and desires forlorn,
    And echoes from the roots’ deceit.

    A hollow wind began to weave,
    Through branches bent in sorrow’s plea,
    A ghostly sigh, a spirit’s grieve,
    That lingered in the twilight’s sea.

    The moonlight cast a spectral glow,
    Through leaves that whispered ghostly magic spells,
    A realm where time was too slow to show,
    And shadows danced perpetually.

    In the tree’s hollow, dark and deep,
    An old, forgotten grave resided,
    Where phantoms in their silence wept,
    And rested beneath the spectral tides.

    A voice once soft now rose clear,
    To beckon those who dared to tread,
    A plea to listen, to draw near,
    To hear the stories of the dead.

    Yet those who heeded the mournful call,
    May have found their fate entwined in woe,
    For beneath the hollow tree’s dark fall,
    The spirits of the lost did grow.

    The roots stretched deep into the dark,
    Where ancient sorrows intertwined,
    Each tendril held a ghostly mark,
    Of lives interwoven with fate’s design.

    The wind’s lament was cold and stark,
    A melody of loss and grief,
    It sings of dreams left in the dark,
    Of shadows yearning for relief.

    The tree’s dark form stood still and grim,
    A sentinel of endless night,
    Its branches weaved a sombre hymn,
    In moonlit haze and spectral light.

    Beneath its boughs, the stories lay,
    In whispered tales of days long past,
    A haunted world where shadows sighed,
    And echoes of the loss were cast.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Twisted Obsessions

    Twisted Obsessions

    Twisted obsessions of failed dreams,
    In the darkened corners of the subconscious,
    Where shadows unleashed dreams unwound,
    A world of obsessions, all alone.

    Whispers echoed through the sordid obscurity,
    Drawing wraiths to forbidden lights,
    A touch, a sigh, a fleeting glance,
    Lost in the thrall of a reckless trance.

    Desires stolen and broken, out of reach,
    Longings hidden, cruel and true,
    Yearning for those invisible chimaeras the day denied,
    In silent, shamed, and sleazy cries.

    Souls that sought what they should shun,
    Minds that ached for the undone,
    In a labyrinth of illusions and betrayal,
    Obsessions took their hidden refuge.

    A tangled web of despair and loss,
    A dungeon where dark passions bred,
    Haunted in a ghostly daze,
    Lost forever in a damning swirl.

    A gloom and spark remained amidst the chains of dissolution,
    On the deepest night, twisted obsessions ensnared all the dreamers,
    In an abyss of despair and fear with no turning points,
    Even if hope was not a lost cause.

    Twisted obsessions of gloomy fates were the cruel rulers of chaotic existences,
    Once again, they were reborn each nighttime,
    Under the influence of an uncertain order of arcane forces.

    Numbness and slumber remained faithful companions of painful reveries,
    Whenever the desire for despair and sorrow trapped every delight,
    In the midst of the chaos and unknown,
    A game of subjugation and delirium.

    Twisted obsessions and sad insanities,
    Danced on the edges of broken hearts,
    Feeding on the remnants of the soundness of mind,
    Spinning tales of endless binds.

    Sighs of broken promises were released,
    Only to fall into the most profound distress of the night,
    Where shadows became the only lonely and friendly essences,
    And the sun’s happiness was out of sight.

    In such a realm, where reality was fractured,
    Dreams and fears became a forest of drear,
    A fictitious masquerade of hopes defiled,
    By the weight of twisted time.

    Indeed, in the heart of this desolation,
    Every gleam of delight faded away,
    Souls were swallowed by the dark embrace,
    And lost dreams continued to fray.

    Twisted obsessions, relentless and cold,
    Fractured every delight into a shattered mould,
    Leaving behind a void where hope had once dwelled.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Infinite Darkness

    The Infinite Darkness

    The infinite darkness lay within each dream,
    Exquisitely bounding everything in the void,
    Fair enough to reveal secrets and arcana of realms that never existed,
    In the presence of the absolute silence of stars and luminaries.

    The infinite darkness betrayed dreams and nightmares,
    In their foolishness and ignorance,
    Like a tide rising from an unknown moonless sky,
    A silver and purple firmament whole of unlimited fantasies.

    Soundless clouds of dust and light were ignominious omens,
    Betraying delusional dreams and untamed emotions,
    Speculations of innocence and death similarly doomed wishes,
    Shrouded in the mist of uncertainty and regret.

    Blue glimmers of occult fantasies hid beneath illusionary visions of a blurred realm,
    Granted to infinite and limitless imaginations,
    Without questions or answers in the absurdity of the universe,
    Interruption of every beauty and sublimity.

    In the silence of stars’ eternal gleam,
    Shadowed longings of forgotten aspirations beckoned,
    Where phantoms of memories and forgotten desires entwined,
    Draped in the spectral light of a desolate eternity.

    Each whispered secrets with echoes of timeless despair,
    Lingering in the hollowed expanse of a cosmic night,
    Concealing the truth in a veil of endless stars,
    Crafting tales of sorrow, anguish, and eternal despair.

    Within the abyss of this boundless void,
    Ancient spirits weaved their silent magic tales,
    Bounded by threads of sadness and ephemeral delight,
    In the everlasting trance of the infinite dark.

    Unseen delights guided the ethereal blisses,
    Through realms where dreams and reality collided,
    Where every shadow held a promise and every light a lie,
    In the uncharted expanse of the deepest fears and desires.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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