Awakened, from the nightmare. The sheets still moist from stale sweat, I rise - violently.
“Not again.”
The images stay glued to my eyelids. I scratch, I claw, I bleed. Nothing.
Nothing will banish them.
There’s a certain tension, a fissure waiting below the surface. “The bend before the break.”
But it’s not mine! It’s yours. So why do I hold it? Maybe God knows.
I doubt He does.
Not even you understand. I try to speak - it’s too dull. Too human. Too many edges.
I stay silent. It lives in my navel, squirming. Steel on my spine is the only thing that keeps it quiet.
Gesualdo wasn’t mad. He was right.
I remember innocence. Not the thought, the feeling. An autumn Sunday morning. Better than orgasm.
I don’t believe in that anymore. It won’t let me.
At last I see you. My muse. My dream! You’re so close I can feel your…wait…no…
You’re already dead.
Who killed you? Satan? Superman? It seems I’ve forgotten. I’ll take the blame.
Now the sin is mine. I wear it like a scarlet letter.
Don’t come near me, I am a monster.