Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: inner darkness

  • Unloved And Still Alive

    Unloved And Still Alive

    Unloved and still alive
    Burning inside like a bursting candle
    Shunned by the stars
    Forsaken by my own fate
    I wandered in my idyllic imagination
    Careless about the consequences of my quest
    So in silence I remained, keeping my stillness and avoiding any apprehension
    I had been cast away from the realm of certitude
    And I had embraced the illusory world of swoon
    Embracing the unknown was my main aim
    Since I lived with the constant suspense of the unpredictability of the events that would unfold before me

    I saw the traces of shame on the walls of a glorious temple
    Remembering that once upon a time, they were covered with the names of those who once enjoyed privileges and gifts
    Although I saw their shadows fading in the void, I knew that their presence was there
    Underneath the oblivious dusty tapestries and carpets, there were the spirits of disgrace
    How long could that secrecy have been hidden?
    It was a question resonating in my mind
    How could it even have been possible to leave such a precious wall so tainted and hideous?

    A crowd of paid names was pasted onto ephemeral history
    Then, years later, it was peeled away, leaving one of the grand palace walls flayed by adhesive and a code of silence
    Names faded away like ethereal legends erased by the wear and tear of time
    Not even the wear and tear of their fake smiles and affected bows could erase what was obvious even to the marvellous works of that now decayed temple
    I saw but I didn’t forget
    Unloved and still alive
    I was an accidental witness to dreadfulness and grotesqueness
    Everything seemed to be so unreal and absurd I couldn’t even admit it as a bare reality and an ugly truth

    The sky was cloudy and the rain fell all over the magical palace with its infernal caves
    The more I walked erratically, the more I felt like I had lost the old version of myself
    I had drunk the poison of my intuitions that were verified by a harsh reality
    I had become inebriated on a potion that had been offered to me just when I didn’t want it
    And although the ghastliness prevailed, so did I
    I cherished my essence of a drama queen and goddess of darkness
    Since I chose to belong to the unseen world of dark shadows and enigmatic secrets

    Although I was unloved by mortals, I was still alive in various shapes like an ethereal creature of an invisible kingdom
    I had recreated myself from dust and ashes
    While the time slipped away like sand in the wind
    For I became what I could never have imagined
    A lost butterfly in an abyss of turmoil and deceit, overflowing my imagination with illusory chimaeras
    I endured a world of wretchedness and cynicism, facing every horror wrought by mortals
    At the very end, there was never an end
    The decay of the perishable world never ceased, but it persisted inexorably
    And I stared at the stars as the only act of salvation for my lonely and broken heart.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • 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 emulated by horrible ghouls who scrutinised me with envious and treacherous eyes. Copycats who used my lipstick-red shade strove to reproduce my portraits in a grotesque, ridiculous style.

    Mediocrity and corruption 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 return to my fantastical journey.

    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, demises and vaults, 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 had already vanished before parting. Long nights expired slowly, as though they didn’t want to leave space for the daylight. I was annoyed at the thought of seeing clumsy 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 wished to accomplish anymore with my copious dreams in a tragic existence.

    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. Lacklustre, shallow, and ostentatious mortals had shamelessly disconcerted 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 decency, which were crowned queens of a fallen kingdom made of corrupted remnants and the dust of wickedness. 

    I sat under a dead tree in the garden of disillusions, I was already exhausted by a profusion of daring adventures, feeling that I was 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 assembly that reeked of disintegration and decay pit.

    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 nightmares. A fatal 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 had been 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 doom. 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. At the same time, 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

  • Ensnared In My Own Obsessions

    Ensnared In My Own Obsessions

    Ensnared in my own obsessions, tricked by my own illusions, I wandered, lost in the abyss of my fantasies. Nightmares were lulling me to sleep on a winter night, while soft whispers were revealing terrible truths to me.

    Time was slow like my heartbeat. I couldn’t cope with my anguish. It was a massive pain that devoured my heart constantly and slowly. Slow was the time. Slow was the consistency of all my pangs inflicted on me.

    Far away, I couldn’t perceive any clear horizon because respite was cast away from me. I could have cried; I could have screamed; I could have broken free from every cruel distress, no mortal soul would have ever noticed it, in the realm of sugary masquerades and coffee goblets.

    Overwhelmed by the sense of oblivion and nothingness, I begged my fate to make me forget my bitter and sad memories, in an attempt to save myself from destruction. Teardrops of crystal ran across my face until they fell into darkness in the absolute silence of the eternal night.

    And I finally sipped the very last drop from my toxic goblet. I could feel my heart fracture in all its power, and my body shake with bliss and delight. I embodied my decay fiercely, and flames engulfed me impetuously.

    Shadows captured me viciously with their menacing claws, ripping my heart to fierce sparkles of passion. Shivers of euphoria and panic coursed through my mind, and my body was under the influence of a magic spell.

    The void claimed me as if I were a creature of its tragic realm. That immortal doom seized me in a dungeon where no starlight could penetrate. I hesitated and sighed in the midst of the nocturnal haze, which hid the deception of my dreams.

    Ensnared by my own obsessions, fooled by my own delusions, I strolled in the chasm of my daydreams, although I was confused. I couldn’t feel loneliness anymore because of my imagination. I couldn’t discern anymore what was real and what was not.

    I strove to feel calm and so much wished to be a star glowing in the sky among clouds and moons.
    I aimed to be infinity and emptiness. My heart became a labyrinth of frenzy and murkiness. I was longing to be taken away from my hallucinations.

    And I wailed to the firmament a multitude of times over, though I knew that no creature was willing to hear my laments. Wicked ghosts cast a spell over me, mesmerising me, and I surrendered to their shadiness, mistaking it for deliverance.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness

    In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness

    In the frosted rose garden of madness, a place of bliss and delight, prospered in secrecy. Thorns and petals intertwined in a lethal union, merging like sweet poison in the twilight. Snowflakes were falling over me like soft caresses sent by the luminaries. Clouds were numbing me with their alluring charm, casting bad memories away from my mind.

    Everything seemed perfect and deformed. What appeared to be real was just an illusion, and I fed my soul with delusions and glimmering lies. While the flickering of the candlelight created constantly bizarre drawings of shadows on the walls, made of bricks and bones. The wind hushed me, for me to pay attention to some revelation I was supposed to hear.

    The frosted rose garden of madness was my hidden haven of lunacy and spices. Every kind of rose would blossom in it, surrounded by thorns and arrows. The exquisite magnificence of the view contrasted with the scent of death, which was hovering over it like a wraith from the underworld. My madness was the artifice of my descent to a vortex of frenzies and obsessions.

    Storms inside my heart besieged my boldness, and I surrendered to them. Undoubtedly, I was bold enough to face my obliteration, but not enough to accept my burden. Lore and legend taught me the perilous path to oblivion. Thorns and pins pierced my heart as I embraced folly and turmoil.

    I wish I could help myself in this labyrinth of passions and longings. Nonetheless, I was lost permanently in the realm of nowhere and absurdity, where everything could have been granted in every conceivable manner, in darkness and light. The colder I felt, the more the dwelling around me dissolved in a haunting haze of derealization.

    Shadows sighed in despair, and infinity bled into nothingness. Gloomy shades invited me to hush, sealing my lips with crimson sealing wax. My freedom had been traded for eternal doom and toxic chains. I didn’t recognise my frosted rose garden of madness any longer, because it came to be a forsaken ravine.

    Indisputably, my burdens had outlived their purpose. Even the trees and flowers refused to make my acquaintance. I was cast away in the kingdom of desolation and balderdash. I forfeited my voice, and my screams carved words of dismay into my heart.

    I was mesmerised by stupor and dizziness as I crossed the portal to utopias and idylls. I had entered an everlasting dream, where I was ethereal and fragile like a rose tormented by blizzards. In solitude, my collapse epitomised the shattering of my dreams, which disintegrated into ashes and frosty flakes.

    In the frosted rose garden of madness, I fell into a deadly slumber listening to the sound of a deafening silence. I could envision my fantasies as tainted desires of love and decay. Caressing brambles and hibernated roses, I vanished into the marvellous dark mist of the night as if I had never been a mortal creature. I became darkness and light. I became ice and fire.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • An Evanescent Bliss

    An Evanescent Bliss

    An evanescent bliss came to me in my nocturnal dreams. It was like a bright flame that burned my heart, and I cherished it as a precious jewel. Although I knew it was just an ephemeral fantasy, it was my only treasure to live for. Until the day when my mirrors fractured, and truth became a deception.

    So much dismay was inside my frail heart that I couldn’t realise I was still alive. Nevertheless, I wasn’t able to admit my loss. I was still willing to embrace illusions and to ignore forgery. And, at the end, I saw everything that was lying behind my imagination.

    In a decrepit and dusty attic, I found chests of ambrosial delights laced with poison. They were there, on purpose, just to attract attention, but their intent was lethal. They were glad to offer delightful winks of bliss and joy in exchange for souls.

    I lost my euphoria, and every thrill of ecstasy faded away. My mirrors revealed hidden secrets to my heart. I had to encounter my dreads, and the truth I didn’t wish to disclose. Candies tasted bitter and toxic. My heart was tainted with venom and revenge. Turmoil devoured my heart and turned me into a scarlet rose.

    My misery transformed into chaos and resentment. I embodied the dismay that enclosed me. I became a victim of my own naivety, and it was too late to remove those toxic emotions from my heart. What had teased me at first was now haunting me nastily.

    I had to touch the emptiness to feel the darkness inside me. Dreadful enchantments enticed me like familiar spells. I sank into the abyss of sadness, desiring to become eternal and infinite. Grief was engraved in my heart, and I completely forgot every kind of evanescent bliss.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Collapse Of My Haunted Illusions

    The Collapse Of My Haunted Illusions

    The collapse of my haunted illusions began the night of my fall into the dark chasm of my fears, where I was tormented by relentless thorns and shadows that pierced my heart until its light slowly faded.

    My soul was burning fiercely, and I could hear the screams of my dreams, alive and breathing, willing to get the last essence of my foolishness. I bore tormented scars cherishing my grief and sorrow. All in the while of my transformation and decay.

    I was reborn and perished oftentimes, as long as my heart was struck by the many thunders of madness and self-deception. Everything could have obliterated me in the valley of despair and grief.

    I was bound to the chains of the deserted version of myself and obscure presages. The fate surrendered at the sight of the tower of my solitude, where I was the only captive in the presence of wraiths made of tragic illusions.

    My tragedy was an everlasting and bright gift, like a hidden treasure. I knew not what could be expected beyond the several doors that kept me locked up. I could have cried all night long and no phantom would have heard me.

    My tears were pearls descended on my neck like graceful raindrops, glimmering on my skin. While obsessive fears were swallowing my soul, and as much as I might run, they hunted me wherever I wandered during my endless bleak nights.

    Loneliness was retaining me as a creature of its own realm. And the steadiness of silence besieged my delusional abode. My heart, subdued in sorrow, cast faint shadows that traced sacred shapes upon the frigid soil.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Dreams Of Oblivion

    Dreams Of Oblivion

    Dreams of oblivion darkened my sleep.
    They were like palliatives for my searing pain,
    numbing my heart and soothing—
    If only for a moment—
    My spasms of fear.

    My disappointments had become like cobwebs woven inside my heart,
    darkening every joy, even the smallest.
    Ultimately, I had not chosen my fate,
    and I groped in the dark uncertainty,
    trying to understand where I was and who I was.

    The disdain and aloofness that oozed from the faces of mortals who had crossed my miserable existence
    had transformed me into a silent, sombre shadow
    whose image did not appear in any mirror.

    In my dreams of oblivion and madness, mediocre monsters that sought to tear me apart
    appeared menacingly in the realm I tried to protect and keep as mine.
    Their intrusion was truly an act of violence.
    Their intent to destroy me was the source of my fears.

    Ancient dusty clocks tolled the time, which always seemed the same.
    The dust of decay and sorrow fell upon me like a heavy rain,
    covering me completely and turning me into an invisible shell.

    Watchful and evanescent veils covered me, so as not to show me the harsh reality whose injustice and squalor could have tainted the integrity of my heart. And my attempt to awaken from that stupor mixed with despair was in vain.

    I was about to become oblivion.
    I was about to become my dreams.
    I was about to become an ephemeral, evanescent creature,
    almost invisible and nonexistent,
    that no mortal of the common reality
    could have seen with their limited gaze
    shrouded in prejudice.
    I was about to become an ephemeral, evanescent creature,
    almost invisible and nonexistent,
    that no mortal of the common reality
    could have seen with their limited gaze
    shrouded in prejudice.

    Perhaps I myself was an illusion,
    perhaps I had become a utopia or a chimaera.
    The devastating pain had transformed me
    and erased every trace of my mortality.
    Elisabetta

  • The Memories Of The Past

    The Memories Of The Past

    The memories of the past drag me into their swirling realm of despair.
    Alone, I find myself in a desolate place, a pit of the living dead—buried memories in the graveyard of my past. All I see are rows of lifeless trees.

    I pretend it is autumn, or perhaps winter, yet in truth this entire landscape is but a reflection of my dead and decaying soul.
    The darkness of the night does not frighten me—on the contrary, it is part of me. I am no longer who I once was; I have become a spirit of the night.

    The emptiness within me is filled with fears and regrets, and with all that I have lost unconditionally and irreversibly—things I shall never have again. And thus, the wreck of my existence: not only is it wretched, but also laden with pain.

    My cries of pain and my screams of despair are worth nothing. I have never been worth anything—only to wither my soul, already inscribed with daggers of disappointment and betrayals, inflicted by monstrous and mortally deplorable beings.

    All my crumpled desires and shattered dreams lie underground among the remnants of my memories and regrets. Left without emotions and left without words, I surrender to my nightmares, to my anguished obsessions that permeate my heart and tear it into a thousand pieces.

    My tormentors advance relentlessly, ready to tear me apart and destroy me in oblivion and forgetfulness. How much longer I must suffer, I do not know. I only know that cruel fate has entrusted me to the ship of the wretched and lost souls.

    The memories of my past haunt me insolently and give me no peace, and so I shall spend the eternity of my non-existence as a restless spirit.
    Elisabetta

  • The Spell Of The Magic Night

    The Spell Of The Magic Night

    The spell of the magic night bound me to a deadly respite
    A slumber of shadows too deep to escape
    Under the siege of absolute silence
    Dreams whispered legends of ashes and decay

    I was facing all my fears and my subconscious
    It was like opening an ancient chest that long-time remained closed
    Disclosing memories enveloped in dust and grief
    Each emotion was a fragile relic, and each fearful thought was an erratic rhyme

    The consequence of my own darkness dragged me deeper
    As my shadows manifested like abandoned ghosts
    And I became a captive of the stillness
    As I came to be aware that the price of awakening was far too high

    Immobile I remained on my fancy bed
    Expecting my frenzy to embody the shape of one of my visions
    I longed to become an illusion adrift in the aether
    Like divine smoke rising from sacred incense

    My heart was pounding from the sinister noises above me
    It felt as though I lay beneath demoniac clouds
    Where wicked souls wove silent conspiracies against me
    The void inside of my heart consumed me

    I surrendered to the phantoms of my anguishes
    They were no longer my tormentors but silent companions
    In the vastness of my hollow night, my thoughts dissolved like torn silk
    Each thread was lost to sight into the infinite darkness

    I finally ceased to search for who I was
    Since I became a part of that quietude I once feared
    I hovered through each memory of mine
    I had become a vibration surrounded by the velvet darkness

    All that surrounded me turned into a silent garden
    Where hushed sorrow bloomed with invisible petals
    And dreams fell like shadowed snowflakes
    On the altar of my fading spirit

    I wandered like a ghost trapped in a hall of mirrors
    Indeed, I had become a phantom of my own making
    And I eternally remained trapped in my dreams
    Under the spell of the magic night.
    Elisabetta

  • My Obscure Sides

    My Obscure Sides

    My obscure sides are so numerous that they cannot be contained by the vastness of the ocean. If someone sought to know them, I would say that I am only made of darkness, for no light remains within me.

    Beneath a cloudy night sky deprived of stars, I wander in my loneliness without any moonlight shining over me. Embracing my fears, uncautiously I explore all my darkest secrets.

    Bold and reckless I explore the most hidden recesses of beauty and mystery. I love to dance alone in the coldest winter nights under the cloudy sky. I love to be mad and foolish and never care about the consequences.

    I’m a courtesan and a poet, embracing my most feral self. I often forget my name and I don’t fit in any box of comfort and conventions. I’m free like a butterfly flying from one flower to another one.

    I adore being stroked by the frost wind and pierced by thunders of passions, feeling the poundage of my incubi on my body during my respite.

    My obscure sides hide quietly in the shadows of my heart. I’m bound forever to darkness and sorrow. Indeed, I’m dressed in an exquisite gown made of grief and tears.

    I love to indulge in my decadence and I love to lie languidly on a bed of flowers contaminated by the dust of decay. Broken like a shattered crystal gem I dwell in absolute silence, inside my dark chamber made of anguish.

    I love to fantasize and live in my absurd dreams. I’m a living paradox and an oddity outside the ordered realm of standard society made of entities who are already lifeless.

    Embracing the chaos within myself, I sink into the abyss of darkness, wrapped in a cloak of sorrows and illusions. Chained by invisible bonds, I get lost in the labyrinth of my imagination.
    Elisabetta

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