Tag: illusions

  • Somewhere In My Dreams

    Somewhere In My Dreams

    Somewhere in my dreams, random thoughts enveloped my mind, and the bitter memories of what I have lost—of my buried treasures—saddened my heart.

    It was as if I had surrendered myself to my own steps, walking down an avenue lined with dead trees, and with closed eyes I had defied the wind, which whispered to me words and secrets I no longer remember.

    Weighted down by my anguish, I could not see a glimmer of light, of hope, that might guide me in a clear and lucid direction. All I could find was only chaos and fear—a dread that tormented me, the fear of never being able to grasp my dreams, of never being able to enclose them within the cage of my heart.

    As much as I longed to cling to life, to my plans and dreams, their manifestations fell into the abyss of emptiness—an abyss that sought to swallow me into its chasm.

    And I remembered all the principles that had been taught to me, shaped like a golden cage in which I was made to live my entire life—bound by rigid conventions, dark as chains coiled around my ankles and wrists, suffocating me like sly ivy twisting about my neck, its soft and slender leaves wrapping my face in a silent, silken strangle.

    No, absolutely not. Stupidity has never belonged to me, nor hypocrisy, nor superficiality. And yet, I have always stood beyond an invisible wall—between myself and other mortals, who have always found me unusual, strange, even impossible to define within their social and mental structures.

    Excessively extreme in my obsessions, in my feelings, in my passions and in my visions. I have always been—and still am—a visionary, a dreamer at the mercy of events that have never truly belonged to me, for even now I find their traces in the vault of my past, like fragments of memories scattered across the sky above my head.

    Somewhere in my dreams, I’ve got lost in the labyrinth of reveries, trying to find myself—but in vain, for, in truth, I have never known myself, and I have never found who I truly am. I have always lived with the illusion of knowing, the illusion that others spoke the truth to me—as if their words were pearls of wisdom, as if they could guide me.

    But in the end, what I found was only an illusion. Only betrayal. My heart has been permanently defiled by the torments of mortals and by the shadowy mirages that have always hindered my path.
    Lisa

  • Absolute Despair In The Heart Of The Night

    Absolute Despair In The Heart Of The Night

    Absolute despair in the heart of the night. Struggling, wrapped in the glow of the stars and surrounded by the absolute darkness of the night, in a silence so complete it deafens me and leaves me aghast.

    Caught between a world of dreams and a world of reality in which I cannot find a place, I try to understand my identity, I try to understand what my heart desires, and I try to invent a world where I can live without trauma and without deception.

    Searching for truth in lies and trying to conceal my feelings behind dead trees of complacency. I wander, disoriented, through the labyrinth of my dreams, which sometimes seem nightmares and at other times delightful visions.

    My vanity makes me believe I can attain all that I desire, yet in truth, what I receive is always the opposite of what my heart longs to devour within itself. In vain I invoke the names of the deities of the night, struggling, weeping, and sobbing.

    My voice fades into nothingness, into silence, into the torpor of my restless sleep. It was as if I could almost touch, almost grasp the emptiness with my hands, yet never gather the gems of my yearning.

    Surrounded by the fleetingness of beauty and the decay of my yearning, I let myself go, I let myself go, I surrender completely to my desires, both carnal and spiritual. It is as if a mysticism had engulfed me, rendering my body immaterial.

    Dazzled and dazed by the piercing brightness of the stars, I find myself in an immaterial realm, mystical and dripping with aesthetic lust and paroxysm of beauty.

    I lie in anguish, in the decay of my very own shadow. I am not ashamed to express my wonder, for I regard it as a pure form of admiration and magnificence toward something my heart cannot even grasp.

    Absolute despair in the heart of the night—it was but the fruit of my illusions and hallucinations. Silent, I stood like a marble statue, exposed to the harsh elements of a nocturnal storm.
    Lisa

  • My Illusions

    My Illusions

    My illusions concealed the bright stars and the moon. I was sure that I couldn’t rely totally on my perceptions and conceptions of life and dreams. I didn’t know anything, but the only thing I could do was cry in my loneliness on a long night when no stars and no moon were visible to my eyes. All my memories were hanging in my mind like paintings. They were like thunders during a night storm in the ocean whose foundation was made of nightmares and suspiciousness.

    Beneath the shadows of hollow trees, I found my dwelling to rest free from the clouds of anxiety and distress. No glooms of sadness could prevent me from looking at the night sky. Maybe it was just a dream, but I couldn’t avoid staring at the dark and starless firmament. I dared to question my senses, but all that I could obtain was confusion and dizziness. In a realm where everything seemed absurd, odd, and meaningless, I strove to find a sense in my ephemeral existence.

    I had ceased to comprehend what was truth and what was deception. The night with its frightful shadows and wraiths, became my loyal companion, so sweet and lovely. No one could ever separate us, not even for an instant. The magic wisdom of the gift of madness was so sublime and exquisite. Unique was the foolishness of my silent heart. Invisible and abandoned in the quest for my fate, I explored labyrinths and mangroves in the wilderness of my imagination.

    My illusions deceived me repetitively, as I attempted to sugarcoat my lonely desolation, deprived as I was of every solace and comfort. I saw the dirty squalor being put on the sacred altar of devotion and veneration. Mortal souls preferred profanities and obscenities to sublimity, beauty and virtue. The world of mortals was shamefully collapsing in front of my eyes and I preferred to shut myself down in my boundless dungeon of illusions, nightmares, dreams and hallucinations. To never be back to that false and tainted world.
    Elisabetta

  • Gilded Illusions

    Gilded Illusions

    Gilded illusions visited my dreams
    In the eternal night that enveloped me like a diaphanous veil
    I lingered far from every mortal sight
    In my dwelling made of stars and dreams

    The moon was bleeding silver onto withered blossoms
    And I was a phantom wandering through chambers carved from bone
    Among candles that wept in crystal flocks
    While silence deepened in this dark dungeon of memories

    Eerie whispers of the dead rose from broken mirrors
    From each cracked and gloomy surface emerged a spirit of the past
    Their hearts were cold and hollow for their ancient dismay
    And their anguish echoed until the stars of the night firmament

    Whenever I aimed to reach for the stars
    They disappeared into the emptiness
    Leaving me alone in my despair and decay
    While the striking of time split the silence like a blade

    No hesitation could help me to reacquire my wisdom
    I knew that I had lost my freedom to embrace a life of madness and turmoil
    Nothing could have altered this realm of death and decadence
    Every divine bliss was destroyed by my fate

    I belonged to the realm of dust and decay
    I was reduced to following the darkness
    The more I wept, the tighter drew the chains of my bondage
    All my gilded illusions faded away in the void

    Surrounded by the hollowness of dilapidated sarcophagi
    I heard lullabies of sorrow that hovered like ghouls
    Shadows long departed from the realm of life
    They waited to converge on the abyss of the underworld

    My chains transformed into silver and gold serpents
    They became my guardians in this surreal world ruled by illusion and deception
    Crowded by hissing ghosts and perpetual twilight
    And in this sublime dejection, I found my refuge.
    Elisabetta

  • Locked Up In My Fantasies

    Locked Up In My Fantasies

    Locked up in my fantasies
    Aware of my unawareness
    Softly indulging in my pleasant decay
    Falling into the trap of loneliness
    In an existence deprived of love and delight
    My desires and fantasies became the only salvation

    I knew not how long I’d been locked up in my realm
    Lovely dreams visited my feeble slumber
    On the silent nights, protected by the shadows of ghosts
    Waiting for some fallen luminary to glimmer sparkles toward me
    I lingered through eternity
    In the darkness of my mind

    Confused and dismayed I wandered in my loneliness
    Starving delight and merriment
    As I was doomed to a cruel and infamous fate
    Nothing I could have accomplished to change the course of occurrences
    I was chained to a sinking boat
    While hearing the screams of spirits haunting me

    Until my very last day of existence
    The infamous tyranny to which I had been enslaved, had disposed of my life
    My heart was crumbled to dust of decay
    My body was the representation of dread and abuse
    Time was not anymore the master of my life
    As I became part of the realm of the dead

    The sun no longer shone upon me
    Instead, the tempestuous clouds obscured all the stars
    Leaving me sightless for the deep obscurity of the night
    I was not anymore aware of my lugubre surroundings
    Trapped within my own nightmares
    Disregarded by the world outside

    I floated into an endless silence
    Each gust was a sigh fading in the void
    I sought fragments of my sparkling and fleeting dreams
    Where once there was love, now only shadows had remained
    My mind had become a labyrinth of dead fantasies
    I stumbled through the graveyard of shadows

    Chasing glimmers of elation I could never grasp
    As each vision slipped away like grains of sand
    The cold embrace of solitude came to be my only companion
    While I longed for the glimmer of a flame that would never ignite
    The wicked claws of my destiny held me captive
    Tugging at the fabric of my fragile hope

    I still lingered in the darkest of prisons
    Where even the faintest flicker of rebellion was obliterated
    In the end, I was nothing but a fading star
    Falling from the sky of my own illusions
    To be swallowed entirely by the noiseless abyss of darkness
    I was locked up in my fantasies, made of void and oblivion
    Where my dreams dissolved into nothingness.
    Elisabetta

  • Sadness And Longings

    Sadness And Longings

    Sadness and longings waited for me to return to my nocturnal slumber. Whenever I fell into Morpheus’s embrace, surrounded by shadows and silence, I discovered a new realm of deception and darkness.

    Fear and doubts chained me to an existence of emptiness. Time devoured my hopes, and all my delights were destroyed by the storm of oblivion.
    I wandered endlessly through the forest of illusions but could not grasp their ephemeral beauty.

    Each dream I dared to explore turned into ashes and I had become a captive of my own desires, shrouded in the velvet of sorrow and despair. I fled from humankind, seeking solace in solitude. But serenity became a minacious ghoul feeding upon my thoughts.

    My sorrow had become too heavy to behold, and I grew exhausted. I was aware that I couldn’t find any tranquillity inside myself. Throughout my miserable existence, I had been drawn to torches whose fire had burned and bruised me.

    Sadness and longings were devouring my bleeding heart like famished monsters. I fell lifeless on the cold soil in the middle of the wilderness. I couldn’t find any will to live and I no longer knew what I was.

    I lay among the withered roots of dead trees, cradled by a ground that knew my distress too well. The moon scrutinised me with distant apathy, an insensitive witness to my decadence. Not a single echo resounded my name, not even the wind dared unsettle my quiescence.

    I was no longer a real creature or a soul but a doomed shadow. A forgotten rhyme in a poem never uttered. I surrendered to the sleep where no dream could deceive me, and no memory could stab me again.

    My heart was sealed in the hush of eternity. Sadness and longings no longer belonged to me. I was finally free from all anguish, and I could hover like a shadow in the night, surrounded by bleeding roses and dark clouds.
    Elisabetta

  • Trapped By My Dreams

    Trapped By My Dreams

    Trapped by my dreams, I was living exclusively in my eternal slumber
    From which I could not be awakened anymore
    Enchanting siren melodies and terrifying cries bewitched my heart
    The perpetual candles burning close to my bedside had the scent of deception

    I was no longer frightened by life and society
    I felt like the most free and ethereal creature in the universe
    And I ventured to remote islands of phantasmagoria
    Thunders of insanity crashed through my heart

    It seemed that everything was shaking, and a roar erupted
    A fierce and wild cry shattered the stillness of my fantasy
    The sky split open with flashes of burning glare
    As if the universe itself was coercing me to succumb to its chaotic will

    The destruction began its monumental obliteration of all my desires
    I could not cry or scream, for I had become silent
    I was like a hollow vessel lost in its fate while caught in a storm’s violent embrace
    My heart, which once burned with ardent passion, was now a feeble flame twinkling like a dying blaze

    I found myself wandering in the graveyard of my dreams
    My heart was bleeding for all the anguish and grief that filled it
    I got lost among the fragments of my shattered illusions
    While hovering through the ruins of my beliefs and loves

    I remained besieged by the ghosts of my fears in the company of bleeding roses
    I had lost all my beloved treasures, and all that remained to me was just dust of decay
    Condemned to be devoured by the infinite nothingness
    I could not see any of my hallucinations

    I could not hear any of the enchanting whispers that the wind used to bring to me as a messenger
    Forced to be enslaved to death and obliteration
    I was no longer trapped by my dreams
    And I dwelled in an unending state of sorrow.
    Elisabetta

  • Wandering In Dark Chambers

    Wandering In Dark Chambers

    Wandering in dark chambers where the bones of my memories were hung
    I was bound by enchanting spells to be a lost soul in an endless realm of emptiness
    Speechless as I became, I was just a living tragedy
    And darkness was my humble and gloomy dwelling
    Where I could be nobody without pretending to fulfil my wishes

    Definitely, all my desires and dreams were annihilated like extinguished flames
    No shame and delusion could have carved my name in my fate
    Because in the end, I didn’t pay attention to what was happening outside that realm of self-destruction
    No one would have rescued me from that nightmare
    Misery and grief were my relentless shadows, following wherever I was proceeding

    Wandering in dark chambers of agony, I was left to bleed out my very soul
    Enduring the most agonizing of sufferings, betrayed by my ancient illusions
    Silly dreams that once deceived me had become my merciless torturers, from whom I could not flee
    Hiding in the depths of gloom, I avoided crossing others’ paths, limping like a wounded animal,
    after having shed my last tears
    Swaying in uncertainty and restlessness, I lie in decay, as I know that I’m destined to the eternal doom

    Faded visions stroked my heart and I had the certitude that nothing could be more possible but drinking the poison of my own illusions
    My heart is a ravine with a thirst for silent collapse with a collar made of misery and decay
    The tragedy of being was embedded into my essence and I shed tears
    The hushed fate misled me into a maze of dust and decline that I was not aware of
    The untold secrets of my past remained buried underneath the garden of chagrin and preordained to stay forever there
    And I kept wandering in the dark chambers of my unending descent.
    Elisabetta

  • Crying To Death

    Crying To Death

    Crying to death until I lose all my fears
    Crying to death until my heart bleeds the last drop of grief
    I don’t remember my name anymore
    I come from a faraway realm where dreams are forbidden
    I wander astray in the labyrinth of my bleeding heart

    Not anymore comforted by solace and delight
    I strive to find refuge in my secret realm of illusions
    Because I love to lie to myself with shameless boldness
    Because I love to fill my heart with deception

    I’m untamed and wild, and I don’t bow to any convention
    It’s impossible to fit my soul inside a box of comfort
    Too many thoughts crowd my mind
    Too many emotions crowd my heart
    I’m a paroxysm, a burst of madness wrapped in the quietness of my sorrow

    I love to wear exclusively beautiful vintage-style dresses and ballerinas
    I love to wear red lipstick and red nail polish
    I never cut my long blond hair because they keep my little secrets for years discretely
    I love books but sometimes I keep them closed as if I would like to guess what is going to happen next in the story

    I mainly write night and day and I cannot see myself not writing even a day
    That would be like asking me not to breathe
    I suffer in silence when I am home alone so nobody can discover it
    I never plan what I’m going to write because I believe in improvisation in poetry
    I love cloudy skies but not the rain because it makes me feel miserable

    I love to be in love but I also love to be loved and adored
    Solitude and books are my best companions, indeed the only ones
    I adore art in all its forms, music, literature and art
    Sometimes I prefer to write in a direct way and simple style without labyrinths of metaphors

    Crying to death is a way to express myself when I’m suffering unbearably
    And when I don’t feel understood and seen by the other creatures of this planet or when memories come to visit me
    After all, we suffer mainly because of indifference or tainted interactions with other entities or because of something we don’t want to remember

    I feel like an alien creature not belonging to standard society and as an introvert it’s very difficult being part of this messed ocean where I never felt comfortable. So bizarre and odd I’m in the other’s sight that I cannot blend with them.
    Therefore, I dwell in my loneliness where I have built my castle of dreams.
    Elisabetta

  • My Blank Pages

    My Blank Pages

    My blank pages of life and stories teach me to embrace the enigma of my fate
    Whenever I think about my future
    I can only see blank pages of a book still to be written
    With my patience and perseverance, I try to love the unknown

    I always change mood like a cloudy sky that lets the sun shine through the haze
    Sometimes I feel like a flower that has been sunburned in the summer months
    Oftentimes I feel like a leaf falling from its tree under the influence of an unpredictable wind
    Everything around me is a reflection of my true self

    I always avoid mirrors to not let them swallow my soul
    Indeed, I am a perpetual dreamer whose real image appears through rhymes and verses
    I will never know myself for I’m an infinite abyss of mysteries
    And I even don’t aspire to get all the knowledge of this universe

    Always metamorphosing into someone new
    I wait for the time that doesn’t matter anymore
    As I see my shadow disappear beneath the night sky
    Wandering and getting lost in the forest of doubts

    I don’t have certitudes and I don’t know how to embrace my future
    Sometimes I believe that I love instability
    Sometimes I think that I have a predilection for blank pages
    I’m a blank page waiting to be written

    Paroxysm of emotions is my way of expressing my true essence
    I’m made of dreams and illusions
    I suffer unbearably and I love being delusional
    A romantic is never a loser but an eternal source of magnificence

    I will never bow to power and oppression
    I’m a free spirit and like a wildflower, I love to catch a glimpse of the sky
    While the pouring raindrops fall all over me
    I wait for my dreams to come true and for my heart to be consumed by madness
    As a book with blank pages, my inner senses yearn to be filled with both bliss and decay.
    Elisabetta

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.