Melancholic Rhapsody

Again dissolving into the varicolored mazes of sensations, melting on the boundaries of reality and dreams, forever becoming an outcast to both of them, yet knowing of both of their secrets. Forgetful of the differences between day and night, black and white have dissolved into one, not gray but a rainbow of infinite colors, which keep on raping me and depriving me of my senses. The morning mist blurs my vision as I hear a distant bagpipers calling me out (Am I a rat?), to fields of unknown flowers, where I hope the mist will clear. But I stray from my path, wandering into the black forests of doubts and sadness, and sorrowful howls of trees is driving me crazy with the weight they lay on my heart. I cry a piercing shriek and lo! I am again in my hellhole, with black bread and stinking beds, but those bagpipers keep banging hammers in my mind, calling me to distant mountains (did i say mountain? or fields?), only to jump without parachutes, yet I would live. Walls of my hole are closing in me, brown falling flakes of paper all around me, claustrophobia seeping out of me, and filling the rest of the spaces. Soon they merge in me and I become a formless, stateless brown mass, amorphous, slithering down the raining streets, with lights flickering in every corner, but it’s dark everywhere else. Something has died in me, just a brown mass.

Just a shapeless, insensitive, amorphous brown mass…


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