the darkness

little by little the darkness covering what stands out there in front of me. watching it carelessly. leaves are falling from the trees. as soon as they hit the ground the darkness is covering them. vision is blurry. not possible to distinguish leaves and ground. sound is muted. the darkness not only brings invisibility with itself, it sucks up all the sounds, even the sound that is heard when the leaves hit the ground.

mountains watching each other. doing nothing to prevent the darkness. the inevitable end gradually approaches. the darkness seems to be unbreakable, unstoppable, inevitable, etc. probably, this is not what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. unstoppable force meets movable objects including this being viewing the world through jelly cow eyes. witnessing what’s happening is as painful as what one can imagine. things stand still. leaves keep falling. mountains are as always. all is waiting for the darkness to cover them, paint them to black, and mute them, recklessly.

what’s happening is as rave as watching it. could it because of it feels like when one doesn’t want to get out of the bed in the morning? the bed is warm and comfortable. who wants to leave the bed and face the reality out there? no one!

the darkness injects something to the veins of what encounters what the darkness does. though what’s has been done by the darkness makes all feel good, all knows there’s no turning back. no coming back. even the leaves know that. all is dead when the darkness accomplishes what it’s doing.

keep doing what you’re supposed to do, the darkness. it feels good, at least for now.

mesmerised

slicing memories into small pieces with a not sharp knife in my dream last night. it’s the same dream i’ve had dozens of times. it’s not day or night in these dreams. it’s kinda half-night. the atmosphere is gloomy. i’m scared like i can’t tell. i get even more frightened when i see how i slaughter memories of mine with people in my dream without any slightest sense of compassion. couldn’t stop myself though. keep doing it. but it never ends. there is always something left behing, something not being ruined by my hands. at some point, a sense of enjoyment shakes me. then i see there’s nothing left, nothing is standing in front of me. all is dead. the lives are taken. everything is over. a song is echoing, whose melody and lyrics are forgotten. still, i remember it. i loved it once upon a time. listening to it. making small manoeuveres with my head to see my success/failure. music is echoing still. nothing is moving around me. looking at my hand for a while. a sticky-stinky black liquid covering my hands. shape of my hands are not even recognizable. yet i know they are still there and belong to me. black liquid is not standing still. it’s like vibrating. how comes? i’m not hallucinating. i’m still where i have been always. nothing has changed. me and others/memories are remaining the same. the light is the same. however, i don’t see any reason for strange movements of liquid on my hands. it looks like alive. i’m mesmerised. my eyes are getting bigger and bigger. gazing at it. it’s vibrating, moving, growing… don’t feel my hands even arms anymore. liquid is moving upwards. i don’t see it but i know it’s now covering my shoulders and moving onto my chest. all is happening under my shirt…and the picture is frozen. nothing is moving anymore. don’t sense anything at all. knowing that i’m still in a dream though…

frightening

A: This is the girl!
B: Hey, that girl is not in my film.
A: It’s no longer your film.

A terrifying scene from Mulholland Drive directed by David Lynch.

dot!

writing down what I’ve had in mind for days. trying hard to make the text as perfect as possible. doesn’t work. no success, at least for me. giving up writing and then erasing all has been written. not able to figure out what causes incapability of completing the text. nothing comes to mind that could bring together a rationale of absence of ability of ending something, putting the “dot” at the end of a word, phrase, sentence, paragraph, text, etc. whatsoever. there is a beginning, yet no end. why? why? why? question marks flying in emptiness and filling it. at least, this is what it seems. blowing wind could sweep and take away all, but not for sure. can’t be sure. as what has mostly happened to the writing process described above, the same could happen with question marks. wind might blow up and carry them to where they cannot find the way back home.  hope it can.

bricks fall dawn as they’re put together. the wall never gets high enough to hide behind. no wall means no place to hide. to be open to whatever comes  is apparently horrible. cause cannot be sure what would hit next and how powerful it would be. sound like everything depends on chance. playing dice! probabilities are too many. not possible to estimate. just waiting and seeing would be the only “thing” to do now as always.

well, things remaining the same. nothing changes. all is out there as it was before. the only thing changes is the way of interpreting. claiming the way of interpreting changes as well sounds logic, but hard even impossible to control it. everything is spontaneous. nothing can be predicted or decided earlier than the event takes place. no power, no control, no chance to manipulate or adjust things. contrary ideas can pop up, yet won’t change even shake the fact. limitations have already been made about how spontaneous lives should begin and go on till the end. not confusing as it may seem. just tricky perspective. like a fish in a sea. not able to escape from it. kept as a prisoner there. still able to swim around.

but how far and how long can a fish swim there whilst being aware of what boundaries/walls have been built around to keep it away from the “other” world? would the fish really like to know what’s out there? why shall bother about this? why does it not just swim around? etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.

nothing has been removed from the text this time. everything is as pure as possible. a new and enticing way of writing

dot!

incomplete

standing in a garden. can’t remember where! viewing my surroundings through big cow eyes. seeing trees around me and an endless field covered with grass. everything is so green. sun is shining over the field through clouds. it’s gonna rain soon, apparently. but i don’t give a damn about it. not thinking of anything at all. standing where i am without being puzzled with past, present and future.

taking of my shoes to feel the cold and wet ground. as i place my feet on the ground, a sense of dread is the only thing i’m experiencing. it’s climbing up through my legs and then reaching my chest. pressing my chest. can’t breath properly. my arms stop obeying my mind. moving randomly. falling down to the ground because my legs are not out of control as well and too weak to carry the rest of my body. the cold grass is now on my face. feels green, smeels green, tastes like green. above all relaxing me. i wanna stay where i just fell. though the grass is relaxing me, i still feel… cannot define. it’s like just before you fall asleep. i like that feeling. but i don’t figure out what it frightens me.