Bathory Resurrection

Wait, concentrate and try to remember: what did you feel at your birthday when being a child?.. I just wonder, how the magic is fading away with years. I don't mean the age: there's nothing more relative and occasional than this. I mean different - why I'm starting to hate every day that is giving the others a possibility to congratulate? The anniversary of being sent into this world. World of struggle, world of sellout, of nothingness. For the right to survive being yourself. Is that the general meaning?

These people surrounding me are simply happy knowing that "it's my day". They really do celebrate it, while I myself don't give a damn of what is happening. They used to behaving so at their own birthdays and they think that everyone should feel like that. But celebrating the anniversary while every day becomes the turning point - isn't it senseless in its deepest form? And instead of partying and accepting motley packages I started that day in style of countess Bathory. Lying in the bath, where water is painted crimson, is quite relaxing: knowing that you're alive and healthy, depressed and seemingly calm, and watching this red liquid on your skin - like someone had just cut his veins... Someone, not you. It's like a rebirth through mental death. Pretty weird, I know. Perverted even. But it gives at least a feeling of indifference and some calming effect. Relax, you're dead. Something like that.

I haven't felt jubilant. It was more like a funeral of something inside of me. Very deep inside... I guess, if it goes like that any further, there will be my personal cemetery, with no crosses, no memorials and no memory itself.

Feast On The Ruins

Pulsating emotions in memory garden...
This life is my greatest, still hectic creation.
Abnormal devotions, so waited, but sudden,
Are tearing the darkness to flashes of passion.

Regretfully born on the ruins of aeon
I know, I'm a sinner, but craving explorer.
I'm diving the darkness to find what is hidden,
But dying in darkness, when party is over...

Blood-dripping

Whatever happened in my life before, is nothing comparing to what is taking place now. And whatever is still waiting for me in my foggy future, veiled, unpredictable, but hardly as drastic and squeezing - I can just desperately hope that it won't repeat the present. I don't know how, but I survived. I still have to survive, instead of living - for a very narrow circle of people who still care. It doesn't break me, though, - but it feels like it's a kind of sadistic game: it doesn't break my back, but it definitely enjoys twisting my fingers, cutting my body and pulling me to the point of insanity.

This period in my life is a nightmare I want to wake up from.

Clairvoyance

What is wearing the name that promises demolition, by the matter of fact appeared for me the opposite. Something healing and motivating. Due to the complete lack of time I didn't see the show, so the whole contiguity was reduced only to a microphone communication. Just a half an hour, but in some several weeks that was the definite highlight.

I wonder just how that was possible, that the person, knowing Russia only by newsbreaks, could see and feel the situation so poignantly?.. Of course, he couldn't know anything, and what he told me was nothing, but a supposition - but holy hell, if he knew how right he was! With the only amendment: what he described is much more promising and positive, than the reality which in Russian conditions turns out to be a sellout...

Corners Of Subconsciousness

Trapped in four walls, where darkness is hungry to devour its prey, one can choose either to hide compressed in the only spotlit corner or to dive into obscurity. Most of the creatures prefer the first, no matter that thus they're sentencing themselves to narrow existence back against the wall. But there are maniacs, who - no matter of fear - still do the second. Those who enter the sea of darkness to explore what it contents.

If I find something, I'll let you know.

Funeral For A Dream

Wait... Stand. And listen to the deafening silence...