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Don't look me in the eyes for what they cause doom, for what they have seem doomed, explosive entropy all around, wide eyes like crashing thunders, trembling bodies, don't look me in the eyes for what they saw doom.
I saw a figure in the corner of my eyes, my dormant eyes, my sleeper eyes, bright as moons, they saw me, me in a robe of smog, and carrying my book, titled in tongues I can't comprehend dormantly. Maybe on life but not here, on doom.
-For what have you came?
It spoke to me without moving it's mouth, me outside of me, in a terrenal plane of dormancy, it didn't looked at me, it was against a naked me, a vulnerable one version, yet it didn't spoke to it but it did to me, a spectral me I didn't understood. Cramps on each echophonic sound it eroded thru his tongue.
-You, you there, why you came here? For what reason you reached me.
I was stunned, he knew me, it was my face but it was not me, I struck a sentence in my mind but then he-
-Interrupted, for what your thoughts are not yours no more, but mine, answer sincerely, from your leftovers of soul, what is your purpose.-Interrupted again, do not dodge with prose, answer honestly.
In what did I got myself into, I could pronounce it's name I mean, for what I saw it's eyes and they saw in me, and they saw doom.
-That is right, I did saw doom in you, for that reason you are talking to me? Or is it because you are talking to me that I saw doom. You pick.
-You picked wrong, but I won't tell you yet, no. You are not doomed enough for by me.
Do I have a voice? I've tried talking but he just seems to cut the time I open my mouth to respond, I can't even think but think of having thought that.
-You do yet you pretend that you do not. Why? Answer with patience.
Patience, I know this? I think I've seen it, is it a doppelganger?
-Wrong.
It's not. Then, is it something from my vigilant state?
-Not anymore, no, answer with courage.
My purpose is to ask you, isn't it?
-You asked two questions, one you say and one you do not, what are you thinking? Am I not you too?
-I thought so, then I shall answer too, and you will answer me, with care. I am not me but you in a past and a future, in a form of context, I am a you that have died by your mishaps, and you thought pleasantly as your excuse for life, it is not, it is merely a body count, one to not be proud, You purpose is to know, and mine to show, and I am showing you, I am you dead, not Death, but a dead you. Now gone, forever gone. Now speak up, and answer with no fear.
Well, it's complicated, you haven't answered the first question, but I'll let you slide in. I know you don't - wanna get complicated. Why you came here?
-You came here in the first place, you are sleeping for a long time, longer than other sleeps, this one is not of your charcoal sand warm dunes, it does not ignite this time, it is not your thunderous storm in the east with purple hues, as you see, it is not your dream but mine. You came to my dream. You are now doomed.
How can I be in your dream? -
-When you die, and you kill yourself, you cannot go to heaven, yet, hell is not yet constructed, not yet finished, I am nowhere, with nothing, anywhere, you commited murder on me, and I commited murder on myself after death, I only have this, forever dreaming in these liminal, dark corners of your eyes. Only dreams are safe for me to know and be known to you.
-You are not sorry, do not act up. Answer with mind.
I am now in the past, I fear, an effervescent, ethereal, spectral me have again reborn more insidious and - discreet. As a ghost, one with no body, with no regards for the body, for the appearance, for one that can see the ghostly and faintly lines that connect the murder with the balcony with the fence with the cat with the asphalt, and each individual tear of the rain, and how it affects this interwebbed interconnected cabled dystopy of knowledge and familiarity, grouping, I fear. I am not going for the future but stagnating on a past, is this your work?
-No.
Then who is it? -
-You drew it, you know it, its mask, is ever present now tattooed on your spirit, your mind is owned and possessed yet free to think of it not being, now, on dreams, the mind sleeps and your spirits fastes, then, feed with me, get fed on your soul, for what your spirit is your will and your soul is doomed, doom it, doom the mask, doom the unspeakable name, doom it and banish it. You know how to purge. Purge and answer directly.
You refer to that old reference? That's a hoax. -
-Then why do you remember?
Then why do I remember... Because I remember everything. -
-Explain what you did from 2012 to 2016, those 4 years, name something.
-Silence, you can not, you will not, nothing, possessed by it, now hold this knowledge, those 4 years were kept in silence, total muteness, not speaking unless spoken to, speaking only the direct crude and necessary to end it fast, sharp and keen, an eye for a teeth. And all you did was read, read until you forgot the hunger, read until you forgot to eat, read until you forgot what your stomach did, read until you had no body to preserve, but you still read. What did you read?
-Silence again, now you can remember, perfectly remember the first, the second, the third, up to the eighty-eight, perfectly knowing the title and year. Yet, you can not remember how old you were. Nor could you try? Not even, you don't know anything of it. But reading, in that stagnated broken mattress in the ground, in the piles of blankets, in the light of the darkness, in the face of that hole in your ceiling, you have read.
I don't understand where you want to go. -
-Why did you do it? Answer.
I wasn't happy, nor I feel I ever was, truly, happy, blissful, hopeful or even sad, I knew logic, and logically, - I knew nothing more.
-Logic does not fail 15 times, temperance does not last 14 tries, love does not wait 13 attempts, sadness can not prevail 12 examples, guiltiness can not be the reason after 11 hangings, remorse will not be the reason after 10 pills, exhaust does not seem fit for someone with 9 errors in its past... You should have stopped after 1 chance. You could have spared me the dream, and maybe spare yourself today. For what now you are doomed, as you saw in my eyes your own doom, that I, you, saw in yourself, me.
Then, why are you here? what do you want to tell me. -
-Beware, know, understand, your end is not nigh, you will mourn more, suspend from the abyss more, you will like to be falling, for it gives you the benefit of waiting an impact, knowing there will be one. But you will not experience it, nor will you ever experience nothing else. Answer the call.
It's me again, I fear. Not a mask, not a me, but... Me. Truly your servitor, starve and die, and be consumed - by life, by the growing need, to settle things naturally, you. Dead me, are not but an usurper of my form and my speech, you will write and make prose and I'll avoid thinking for it gives you space to be fed. And you will think I am using your prose but I am merely embedding myself back to me, for what I now see. No call will be answered.
-Dumb, the idea itself is dumb, go back to the physicality. No realm of oniric enthalpy needs nor wants you. Next time, do not kill me again, dead you, just answer the call, answer the void and embrace that cold talk again, see your throat and eyes embowl on blood, see your nose clogged with mucus and your own fleek veins open, see abyss again, that gaping mouth of stelar completely null numb and culled nothingness. Be part of it, and be me, for the future, next, tomorrow you to be there where you are, and you now, with no time, no space, no limit, to understand intrinsically the recalcitrant hatred. Be me and you again, answer the call of the void.
Answer.
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