((Akathisia)) From ((Blepharospasm))

                                                                                                                                     Black lips, and violet eyes are the vision that I agitate with. I picture it and intoxicate
with it. I erase the being with it and draw a blank circle; I frame that vision inside
that blank circle. And the bright lights that are above me, mingled with the sunlight
and the silence. Just door shaking, I watch it viciously to not get open and ***** my
stillness. Scattered insomnia with a knife, made her go up the stairs to see her little
son. I pried at the panic that filled her face, she goes up the stairs to see her little son,
and I wait her, emptying all the tissue papers out of the box. Boxes of tissue papers
scattered around me, several kinds and sizes of tissue papers boxes, I empty them. I
spread out the tissue papers on the sofa next to me, I align them, and itch myself
anxiously erasing the moment of her panic. With a rustling contemplation to wipe out
that face, I yawn. She goes down the stairs…walks toward me. She stares into the
tissue papers that I aligned on the sofa. She smiles quietly and sits near me, then she
gets up and gathers all those tissue papers. I swoop down on her and take the tissue
papers from her. She sobs silently and her body shakes, she stares at me tranquil and
throws on my face the rest of the tissue papers. She disappears from my sight,
leaving a sob and stupidity. I turn off the lights and hang down the curtains, align the
tissue papers again on the sofa. I watch the aligned tissue papers on the sofa under
the dimmed light, how those tissue papers wiping out my being and making my
knuckles shiver stupidly. And the blood should fill my temples just to surround me
with the light that oscillates in front of me lustfully. I'm mouldering those tissue
papers, and I notice her face that watching me passionately from behind the door,
and she closes the door. I keep mouldering the tissue papers, and my eyes are so
dilated strangely, the more the dilating grows, the more the ecstasy grows. The desire
for the kill grows, just to bring a stillness and calmness to the quasi-dimmed room. I
itch, support my body, a wipe out. I stay quiet and make no sound, just to comfort her
heart, which is clouded. I hear her voice is coming from the upstairs room; she is
talking with her little son. I try to get out of the room. I try to let her cast a look on
me. I go up to her, but her room is locked, she is sitting with her little son, talking
with him. I knock on the door, and she says to me: “I don”t want to get hurt by you.”
I stand silent in my place. I bring that vision, and twist with it. I go down the stairs
and back to my place. I take off my shirt and watch those mouldering tissue papers
around me. I crouch on the ground and begin to swallow the pieces of the
mouldering tissue papers that are scattered over the ground. I lie down on the ground;
I feel its coldness, chilling me, creeping into my brain and dulling me. I stare at the
dimness that is around me, I reflect with it my heartbeats, I tumble, and I feel that I
am getting swallowed, that I am getting hanging with the throat…but I am still
getting swallowed, I am getting sucked with all of my body inside a dark and stiff
body. And the voices that were coming from the upper room become merely grey
shadows fluttering on the paper, become merely pencils, I like to suck its end and
chew it. I listen to my throbs, to the sound of my nerves throbbing, I listen and listen
I veil everything off myself. I just listen. I listen to the silence that envelops me,
overwhelms me like sleeping pills. I shake and get out of that silence, I see her
before me, wiping my bleeding nose with a tissue paper in her hand, and she wipes
all my face with that tissue paper.



Agriwulf Agriwulf
31-35, M
Mar 9, 2011