floating....

Not everyone always knew who i was.
My history has come into oblivion.
Now, I will make my way into death...

"Here, i end my days, helpless and nothing, nothing i could have done or have not done could have led me to a different place."


Deeper than any other feeling, stronger than any other thought, this fear slaughters me, splitting my skull in pain.


By then, nothing can be heard but whimperings and cries over the shadows...
Helpless dead shadows...


I can't stand staring at that moon, watching as it grew pale every moment...

There's no further explanation. I am not the girl I thought I was. ANd in this hour of death, never had i felt so alive.

The finality of the words written in blank sheets of paper, like black thread laid obvious against a white silk, grips my neck, supressing air to pass through my lungs.

I had always been remorseful of the past. now, under the pale light, I watch as my self-reproachness prevented important questions from coming together. but the questions grew like fruit inside the peel, and detached itself and lay before me...there is a blissful pain.

It must have been that plump juicy hate again. It is not just a frustration; it is poison!

I'm damned! Everything in me was dumbed. i grope my way back along the thread of my life, dreadful shame crawled in my scalp, digging shiver to the bare earth. Even grim pictures of reality have not yet veiled the horror of my own ghosts.

Ghosts.


My own ghosts kept on haunting me....every night.

The ghost that i made, whom i gave birth in the leaves of the paper....they are kept locked in a dark closet..yet they kept on slipping through the box to haunt me.....

The ddark closet, bearing my greatest fear...my mortal fear.

Mortal fear.


I had always been caught by words than images, strange and incompatible with my vocation.

Words die before pictures.
That is my gift of prophecy.