Under the spell of despair and distress, I fell into a slumber that dragged me to a realm of darkness and madness.
Disquietude welcomed me like a soft petal falling on the frigid soil soaked with tears and blood in a domain where I had always been a nobody.
The sound of a storm kept me asleep as I was under a dark spell of pain. Loving to be possessed by an anguish that was piercing and breaking me.
A sharp blade stroked me just as an affection manifestation of my nightmares, visiting me like haunting spirits, leaving me bleeding my soul out.
Decadent desires of lust grabbed my body, tearing me apart with their alluring viciousness, leaving me like a crushed rose whose blood stained red all over the garden grass.
Faraway, wicked echoes of phoney oddities and curiosities claimed me as their biological creature and beloved possession of my early youth. They trampled upon my essence repeatedly until my soul dissolved into nothingness.
Old forbidden secrets were kept inside my heart like decayed treasures made of rotten fondness. They made me feel like a butterfly without wings and without a name.
And so, I became nameless and faceless, ensnared under the spell of despair and mortification, revelling in the triumph of decadence and the torment of existence.
Floundering in the unfathomable depths of an ocean of dreams and illusions, I drifted endlessly, lost within their spectral embrace.
In the end, I became a crimson blossom, sustained by the moonlight’s ghostly glow and the deception of my obscene dreams.
Esther Elizabeth Racah
