Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: emotional decay

  • Melancholic Discomfort

    Melancholic Discomfort

    Melancholic discomfort was a mirror to my soul. Dead leaves fell with sadness. Sorrow grasped dreams and delight. The abyss of nothingness extended its boundaries. Delusional visions became gloomy shadows. Portals of darkness were sources of uncertainty. Illusion was reality but not anymore. Distances become journeys to surreal realms. Deceitful hopes were invisible traps

    Silence hushed me as an imperious order. There was no prophecy able to entangle my fate. Everything was distorted and hypnotising. Obsessions clutched my heart with nails and quills. The horizon was shrouded in haze. Only darkness was guiding me in a labyrinth of bitterness and revenge. I saw squalor swallowing magnificence. I heard the screams of joy of demented fools. Their claws were embedded in precious paintings

    At night I woke up overwhelmed by the moans of pain and dread. It was the visitation of those who had no voice. So many times, I wished to keep my heart in oblivion. But it was never the case. They came and their poison penetrated into my heart. I kept myself faraway from each one of them. At the end, my dreams had opened my eyes and I saw everything.

    It was too late and too soon. Time had no sense anymore. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything had become a dark nightmare. There was no escape. There was no salvation. I had been punished for having seen too much. Beyond any imagination. As if nature could have welcomed me to another realm. Where I was free from other mediocrity chains.

    The mist enveloped me, as if it wanted to protect me from seeing things that would dishearten and hurt me. I had been shamelessly copied by horrible ghouls who scrutinised me with envious and treacherous eyes. Copycats who used my lipstick, strove to reproduce my portraits in a grotesque, ridiculous style.

    Mediocrity and depravity wanted me to hush, because I had revealed their appalling secrets. But the wind was my ally and it brought my words to all the domains. My heart has been shattered and devastated. I had become a shell of myself. I couldn’t recognise my countenance in the silvery surface of cynical mirrors. I had no dreams anymore because I had lost any desire to survive.

    I was just a shell of myself, a ghost devoid of every hope to find the delights in a lugubrious existence. Touching the gelid walls of a house made of memories and bones, I was reminded of the several losses, deaths and funerals, which were entangled in my heart. I had lost everything that was very dear to me in an indissoluble manner.

    I felt a melancholic discomfort like sharp nails piercing my heart, and an absence of noise, as if I was already dead before dying. Long nights expired slowly, as though they didn’t want to leave space for the daylight. I was annoyed at the thought of seeing inept and mediocre beings wallowing in a world filled with cornucopias and treasure chests.

    I constantly felt like a creature condemned to see what I didn’t want to see. Squalor, venality, superficiality, and idiocy were served on platters of gold and gems as jewels of admiration and wisdom. I felt so disoriented and emptied of all my desires and dreams that I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with this miserable existence anymore.

    All my anguished thoughts turned into raw, unfiltered words. The sense of deep disappointment had disarmed me and I no longer knew what to do. Countless times I had lost myself and never found that part of me that had faded into oblivion. Mediocre, superficial, and flashy mortals had shamelessly supplanted me.

    Their grimaces in front of the cameras and idiotic poses had dominated the scene along with their bottles of luxurious perfumes, their exorbitant chocolates, and their sumptuous jewels. I saw marionettes devoid of any kind of decency, which were crowned queens of a fallen kingdom made of sewer debris and the dust of depravity. 

    I sat under a dead tree in the garden of disillusions, I was already exhausted by my existence, as if I were no longer capable of moving forward. I had given up in the face of the devastation and desecration of beauty and art. I didn’t want to be part of that bestiary that reeked of putrefaction and latrine.

    But at the same time, I felt helpless because I could not save what had been cruelly torn away from me. My shattered heart stopped beating and turned into a heavy stone that made me fall into the abyss of perdition. A deadly slumber had captured me, and I wept for the lack of dreams.

    The melancholy of the memories of what I lost overwhelmed me like a stormy sea. I felt helpless in the face of a tsunami of catastrophic events that had infested my life. I didn’t want to know anything anymore. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I didn’t want to love anything anymore.

    I locked myself in a refuge of perpetual silence, shunning everything that had damaged and scarred me. Every form of bliss was relinquished since I had become a shadow in a world that didn’t belong to me any longer. I shunned the realm of degradation and profanity.

    I had embodied all the despairs and struggles that had chased me, now that I was a shadow in a realm of darkness and descent. Dressed in fragments of forgotten beauty, I wandered aimlessly as if fate had abandoned me. A gentle breeze of restlessness and sadness enveloped me, as if to remind me that I still had a heart.

    The hiss of loneliness was the only sound that constantly accompanied me while I could not find a horizon or a destination to follow. I had regained myself by losing myself in the void, with the hope of forgetting everything that had erased me. I vanished like an evanescent cloud at twilight just before the eternal night came to announce its hegemony.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Seeking Dreams

    Seeking Dreams

    Seeking dreams in nowhere on a winter night with no stars but only a mystical fog and gloomy clouds. Not even a bird was flying in the leaden and dark sky. Only the clouds were gazing at me like curious observers, and the wind whispered legends of despair to me.

    I signed and dreamed of ocean floors paved with diamonds and stars. I fantasised about mermaids lost in submerged islands, and snow-capped waterfalls on remote cliffs. Time faded away when I was dreaming. Not even the impetuous cold rain could distract me from my nightdreaming.

    Foolishness never abandoned me, while I was consumed by my passionate longings, which brought me to the edge of the universe. Wonderful darkness enticed me, and I summoned my own demons and spirits, surrounded by exquisite midnight flowers.

    Folly and wisdom accompanied me in my everlasting journey to my hellish descent. Though I have visited heavens and abysses, boundless valleys and inaccessible mountains, I have always ended up at the very same point of origin, namely my ancient abyss of despair.

    Seeking dreams in nowhere on a frosty night with no glimmering lights but only a ghostly haze and dismal shadows. No living creature crept close to me, but only wraiths and eerie ghouls, which kept following me in every abode and realm I dwelled in.

    I foresaw my decay and the obliteration of all my dreams that I had sought for so long in vain. Drowning in the emptiness and losing my heart, that was a nightmare of mine, an incubus visiting my slumber. Arcane verses, evoking a magic spell, were carved on my body.

    Scarlet flowers adorned my hair that flowed on my face, while my tears of sorrow soaked the frozen soil. Nightmares and thorns poisoned my never-ending nights, tainting the sky with chaos. Numbed and mesmerised by swirling griefs that never hesitated to tarnish my keenness, I softly succumbed to my unavoidable demise.

    While seeking dreams, I harboured enemies in my soul, harming myself with obsessions that left scars all over my body. I had to renounce being myself and let the darkness swallow all my desires. In a realm of liminality, I was cast away and forced to endure agony.

    Abandoned in my dismay, I found no solace but to metamorphose into sadness. I became what I had feared the most, the very thing that had damaged my heart. I ended up in loneliness and madness, seeing my own reflection staring back at me in fractured and disfigured mirrors.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • An Enigma In the Twilight

    An Enigma In the Twilight

    An enigma in the twilight was before me,
    In a decaying and decadent dwelling
    where I fell into a deep slumber.

    The silence after the storm.
    That was all I could hear as I stared at the ceiling, decorated and inlaid with grotesque figures, cobwebs, and peeling paint.
    I was reflecting on my life and my dreams.
    It felt as though I was already inside one of my dreams, yet I could not be certain whether I was conscious or not.
    The pendulum clock could no longer offer that familiar chime that once marked the hours — and with them, time itself.
    The deafening silence had filled the entire mansion, whose walls were adorned with portraits that stared at me as if they wished to reveal secrets — or perhaps their memories.

    Was the enigma in the twilight merely a product of my imagination,
    Or could it be that this ancient and dilapidated place
    held enigmas my heart perceived as a potential object of interest —
    a heart now emptied of all the feelings it had carried through a lifetime,
    senselessly and heavily, like a tremendous burden?

    The only clock that marked the hour was an old timepiece,
    And it seemed to have stopped at exactly 22:22.
    The strange air of the mansion allowed the night to seep in
    With a peculiar glow that filtered through the curtains — thick, but not too thick.
    It was a house rich in memories and forgetfulness,
    in joys and grudges, in violence and death,
    in life and love, in ugliness and beauty,
    In magnificence and horror.

    Absorbed in my thoughts and lost in my memories,
    I fell into a state of deep melancholy and sadness,
    as if an abyss had swallowed me whole
    and forced me to live a life in a non-existent world
    of sorrow and ghostly recollections.
    Elisabetta

  • The Mirror Of Memories And Secrets

    The Mirror Of Memories And Secrets

    The mirror of memories and secrets appeared before me, in one of my many dreams that wandered through my long, sleepless and tormented nights. In the darkness of night, in my chamber of solitude and desolation.

    My nocturnal refuge had become my prison,
    from which I could no longer escape. The tall windows, adorned with Gothic ornament and stained glass depicting scenes from a bygone age, stood like walls of glass between me and the outer world—a world I could no longer touch, no longer reach.

    The ancient piano gazed at me in astonishment as I sat absorbed in my thoughts, completely lost in the labyrinth of my visions. I could no longer recognise my own reflection in that great mirror of exquisite and delicate craftsmanship—yet its reflection seemed cast beneath a spell, the origin of which I could not fathom.

    Dressed in a majestic, cumbersome gown of purest white, I could no longer see my reflection in that mirror. It was as though it longed to reveal to me my true image—not the one to which I had grown accustomed. Silence carved deep furrows in my heart, making me understand that utter solitude was my destiny and my dwelling place.

    Engaging in a soliloquy, I hoped to summon spirits that might assist me in my transformation—into a new, intangible entity, ethereal, no longer made of matter. So I searched, with my gaze, for references, for remnants of the past that might help me find direction, but in the end I understood: I stood within a dark and unfamiliar realm, a place that filled me with fear and awe.

    If I had been granted the privilege of a common and ordinary existence—the kind that most mortals, or nearly all, are given with ease—with all its hopes, its chances, and the facilitations that I have never known, perhaps I would not have found myself in that realm of unwholesome madness and aberrant hallucinations that followed me through the shadowed corridors of that castle of illusions and decay, whose walls were soaked in tears, piercing sighs, and the dust of lives long gone.

    The mirror of memories and secrets in truth, was not there to keep me company, but to reveal to me my true essence—my soul, and the image of my heart, defaced and torn apart by pain, torment, disappointment, and betrayal. It was no ordinary mirror; it was a portal to another realm—the world of souls lost in oblivion and in the torpor of death. A world that seemed a deep, infinite abyss, where despair and sorrow, regret and the memory of the dead shone like stars—but stars of a darkened light.

    And in that very world I remained—no longer a prisoner, but a part of that abyss, of that darkness and dimmed light, for my heart had not ceased to beat, yet my soul had ceased to shine.
    Elisabetta

  • Devoured By My Own Dismay

    Devoured By My Own Dismay

    Devoured by my own dismay
    Crying in the middle of the night
    Feeling the sharp points of the daggers impaling my heart
    Fainted behind my shadow
    Forced to live
    Devoted to death
    Striving for darkness and the underworld

    Devoured by my own regrets
    Chains of anguish that bond me to my death chamber
    Where I hid behind the veil of sorrow and blood
    Like a magnificent statue of sorrow veiling her countenance

    I melt in the haze of the night to become invisible
    I become the night and the solitude
    Just a creature of the underworld
    The realm of destruction and death
    Transformation mutes me in infinite shapes and entities

    Devoured by my own dismay
    I linger in my own fantasies
    Sometimes they are my nightmares and they want to obliterate me
    Sometimes they are my fears and anxieties
    Chaining me to my dungeon of anguish

    Slowly the rain falls over me
    Stroking my face as to accompany me in my garden of loneness
    I surrender to my madness and turmoil
    I have no power anymore
    I lost everything to be left with dust and decay

    My heart is stitched and bleeding
    Buried inside a coffin in the graveyard of memories
    In the cemetery of those I lost permanently

    And time seemed to stop at the very moment my grief began to be alive
    Interrupting my life and slicing me into fragments and pieces of flesh and blood
    To be relegated to a poky fate
    Tucked behind time’s dusty drapes.
    Elisabetta

  • So It Was A Night

    So It Was A Night

    So it was a night a lonely light where the sky was covered in clouds and all the shades of blue
    surrounded by silent statues whose stares seemed looking at me but in reality, they just didn’t see me. My loneliness was my only dwelling to create another version of myself. I was crying tears of blood, shame and regret. I felt confused, and at the same time, I had the certitude that I would never belong to the world of mortals. I accepted the fact that I never understood and accepted the worldly rules and conventions as I was a creature of my own.

    It was just night when I realised all the decadence of my existence like an ancient statue living off the ancient memories of its previous life without any hesitation and doubt. And so I approached the mirror of my soul where I couldn’t see any image reflected. It was like I was without the soul, and it was because my heart was too broken to be alive. Being always surrounded by beauty and decay I realised my demise. I strived to accept my ephemeral  dimension and abide by being invisible like a small stone in a huge ocean of confusion.

    I knew that every delight and joy did not belong to me, but only sorrow and distress. All I could do was dream. Dreaming and lamenting my miserable life was my delight.  I felt like in a cage, an invisible cage that just made me imperceptible to the sight of everyone. I was just a shadow, a spirit of the night of the terminal darkness where only other ghosts and spirits could perceive my presence. So I was condemned ultimately to a place between dream and death. I was not sure that I was alive. I could not understand since I got lost in the labyrinth of my fate.

    So it was a night, an eternal night. There was no more sunrise or sundown. The sun vanished in the emptiness, and the horizon was so dark that it seemed to be made as an abyss of gloominess. I wondered terminally without finding a refuge of hope and happiness. Tired as I was, and exhausted from my life, I had to face my condition as irreversible and doomed. So it was a night, my eternal night the end of my suffering, and the beginning of the perpetual void. Deprived of light and desire.
    Elisabetta

  • Midnight Thorns

    Midnight Thorns

    Midnight thorns grew for each teardrop that stroked my face
    With a heart full of stitches and pins
    And for each memory, a mask of remembrance grew like a flower of death
    In a golden cage of betrayal and deception, I dwelled in utter solitude
    Faraway from the vulnerable and wicked sight of mortals

    At each instant, my expectations arose under the shape of lifeless trees
    No season and no hour differentiated the realm of midnight thorns
    A persistent aura of doom distinguished this gilded dungeon
    No sun was rising on the horizon
    Only the several moons dared to appear in all their splendour and dark emotionlessness

    My dwelling was a castle made of pure gold and decadence
    Amid an enchanted forest of malicious spirits and magic spells
    From each mirror, an unknown countenance emerged
    As if my reflection shifted with every passing instant

    Mystical fanfares and funeral laments wavered like otherworldly fragments of sorrow
    Echoing within the hollow walls of my golden dungeon
    Elegies without words hovered as mourning tributes to obliterated dreams
    The chandeliers wept waxen tears made of gold
    And all the chambers and hallways trembled beneath imperceptible footsteps

    I strolled in mourning robes, carrying secrets and grief
    I followed the trail of dark shadows, finding no merriment
    I had lost myself and all my hopes were obliterated
    Everything was buried beneath the ashes of my forsaken dreams
    And the shadows had become friends of my own melancholy

    The glooms were the reflection of my own melancholy
    And all the mirrors were portraits watching quietly with their empty eyes
    No sound beckoned my name, and no aid came from the darkness
    There I was surrounded by the heady perfume of ancient roses and antiquity dust
    I ceded to midnight thorns, the venom of demise and drama.
    Elisabetta

  • A Doomed Paradox

    A Doomed Paradox

    A doomed paradox was my trap
    The more I escaped the tighter I was bound
    Each step forward pulled me back
    I tried to chase the wind but it eluded me
    Each decision became a chain wound tighter around me
    To escape meant to be trapped
    For each door opened, another one was shut behind me

    My liberty was slowly being killed by my fate
    The harder I fought against my destiny the worse it approached it
    To unlock the chains I had to stay chained
    I strived to reach for freedom, but it closed in as poisonous ivy wrapped around me
    I attempted to defy the tide, but each wave pushed me closer to the abyss
    I struggled against the void, but each part of me was swallowed by the silence of the vault

    The shadows crept closer to me with their sharp claws around me
    Their gloomy chill tightened around me like a funerary veil
    They led me deeper into a labyrinth of forsaken spirits
    My heart thudded in a deadly cadence as if its hollow pulse belonged to the underworld
    The cruel embrace of despair of the dead wraiths was pulling me underground
    I lost my hopes in reaching for the stars that faded away like faraway candles in a storm
    I had become a prisoner of the eternal night, chained by the very darkness I sought to escape

    There was no beginning or end in this ill-fated paradox
    This doomed paradox became my eternal dungeon
    My refuge had become my prison never to be left
    I lost my wisdom to merit my madness as a prize
    Time left me and every hope of mine was reduced to dust
    I was becoming decadent and dead like a withered flower left to dissolve
    And all I could see was an endless nothingness surrounded by a deafening silence.
    Elisabetta

  • In My Fainted Dreams

    In My Fainted Dreams

    In my fainted dreams made of smoke and spells, I saw my image reflected in the mirror of death. It seemed as if I were a dead shadow made of illusions. My slumber bound me to chains of darkness, and I couldn’t escape from my dungeon of despair.

    In my non-existence, the quietness numbed me with a spell of sorrow. I was born to die alone, in scorn and desolation. My residence was made of teardrops and blood. I wished I could have kept my dreams in my treasure chest, but every time I tried, they would vanish.

    Hence, I began to pretend that I didn’t need to desire or dream. I could have achieved everything I wanted if only my fate could allow me to do it. Nevertheless, solace and bliss were forbidden castles to my decrepit presence, and I could only find myself in an endless requiem.

    Lies were birds of freedom for my heart, and I slumbered as a way of searching for myself. Indeed, I received an invitation from the realm of nothingness, under whose influence my main achievement was only destruction and decay. I was becoming a candle castle collapsing under the tension of an impetuous and merciless wind.

    My past memories were little daggers puncturing my heart incessantly without any compassion. Maybe it was all an endless nightmare conspiring against me but the vivid remembrances were slowly annihilating me each instant of my non-life.

    In my fainted dreams, I lived in grief surrounded by the shadows of my past self. I was not afraid to suffer and mourn days and nights. Time didn’t matter anymore because there was no metamorphosis in me. I perpetually wept like a statue in a cemetery.

    Death and nightmares were all that remained as gifts of the underworld. I surrendered to a quiet acceptance of my irreversible demise. I ceased to dream, embracing my everlasting lamentation. I was fading like incense through a sinister wind.
    Elisabetta

  • Desolation and Sadness

    Desolation and Sadness

    Desolation and sadness blossomed in a time when the tree of joy died,
    Before, the winds turned cold and cruel.
    The days were bright, but shadows prospered,
    And silence ruled in every room.

    The flowers once bloomed in glimmering lights,
    Their petals soft, their fragrance sweet,
    But seasons shifted, and they withered,
    As if the soil no longer cared to greet.

    The sky had held a shade of blue,
    A canvas where the clouds would play,
    But soon, it faded into grey,
    As mirth dissolved and dreams decayed.

    There had been a symphony of fondness in every glimmer,
    And love’s embrace was powerful and infallible.
    But hearts grew detached, hands untied,
    Leaving behind an obscure emptiness.

    The roads once bustled with busy steps,
    Crammed with the hum of life’s embrace.
    Now, only memories passed through walls,
    And loneliness had found its realm.

    The ocean once danced beneath the sun,
    Its waves created a melody of endless bliss.
    But now the shores stood bare and cold,
    Untouched by light, untouched by ardour.

    There was a time when longings were alive,
    Their sounds were so pure, their wings so light,
    Nonetheless, soon, their melodies went lost in the darkness,
    Swept away by endless nights.

    The stars had shone like scattered gems,
    Guiding the way through life’s enigmas,
    However, shortly, their light was swallowed whole,
    By darkened skies, their lustre was gone.

    Those who once believed in futures bright,
    With paths that led to beautiful shores.
    They became tired of those dreams that were left lying in the dust,
    Forgotten tales of what once soared.

    There had been smiles and giggles,
    Faded promises of days to arrive.
    But sorrow settled in their place,
    And every gust felt cold and numb.

    The past was filled with tender grace,
    A world untouched by grief’s decay.
    But time moved on, and all that was loved
    It was swept like ash and blown away.

    Desolation and sadness claimed the fields of green,
    Where no more hearts alive could have been chased,
    Indeed, now those fields lay barren, bare,
    Where joy had existed, now misery took its siege.

    The wind that brought hymns of happiness
    Suddenly, it only carried the weight of tears.
    The songs of delight and love
    Fell silent through the passing years.

    There was a remote and ancient time,
    When kindness bloomed like a springtime flower,
    But cruelty’s frost had killed the bloom,
    And shadows stretched with thriving power.

    The sun that warmed every realm
    Fell from the sky in silent grief,
    And all that once was full of life
    Fell prey to time’s relentless thief.

    In the end, only desolation and sadness lingered here,
    Of all things that went lost, of all those dreams that were known.
    Desolation ruled the land,
    And sadness bloomed where hope once grew.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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