Regina,
you’re my darling, baby.
How
the hell I was supposed to lose you?
How
the hell I was supposed to let you alone in this loathsome world?
I’ve
craved for you in the misty rain of the latest June.
I’ve
cried for you during the last 7 damned years. And you never were nigh.
I
swear I’ve always craved and cried for you, my darling…
Until
my lachrymals were drown in tears, and then dried.
Every
single afternoon, I’ve being waiting for you.
Full
of sorrows and laments. Full of shame. Full of dirt.
In
every single loneliness, I’ve called you in distress,
Ripping
my throat with a dumb, wild howl that shivered the marrow in my bones.
All
my dreams were slaughtered, in the most agonizing pain.
One
by one, torn apart from the tender brain that once has dreamt them.
And
I was afraid of the alive iguanas, the ones that eat the men who don’t dream.
Regina,
I still find myself been a believer.
An
apostle of the constellation of your moles.
A
disciple of the beauty fractal pattern your red beating heart draws.
The
prophet of the black magic we create. The black magic we used to create.
They
say destruction is another way of creation,
But
the crystals on the window are still broken and the snow comes inside,
Filling
the room with blue and tiny particles that are dissolving my being…
Descending
to Tartarus, clinically dead, grey matter still beating electrically.
I
was seeking redemption, I only did find purgation.
Encouraged
to eat all the inked vomit once regurgitated to the world,
I
was regurgitated to the world myself.
Regina,
I started to breathe again!
You
were vanquished. I was triumphant
No
more need. No more home.
The
soul now burns inside. Incandenscence of life.
No
more strangers. No more love.
The
thoughts burst like color fishes in a bowl. Incandescence of life.
The
glass’s recomposed and the blizzard whistles outside.
I
keep vomiting black dreadful ink and the reason is not you, Regina. Not
anymore.
A
dead bird is lying covered by white dusty flakes of snow.
Remember
that ancient oracle. It told you so:
“You would be a dead swallow in the snow of January,
Whilst her wings of grief would take her to
Eternity.”