Valkur

The sea rises angrier tonight. An unquenchable dark thirst crests the waves with jagged knives. Denizens of the deep assault the coasts, the derricks, and the boats with focused wrath, staining blades with crimson gurgles. The black gold of mankind's greed bled upon salted waters one final time. This night, the lifeless, cold surfaces upon which the bipeds arrogantly stand, avidly sip from the red swill bubbling and spilling down their once dry necks. The filth of the land will stop darkening the waters now that the ocean is no longer calm. The only sound the seashells now harbor is the cry for war.

Mr. X will arrive soon without a doubt. I never met him, yet I must oppose him. Mr. X is nothing like me, he's a whole different letter. Mr. X is here for Y, just like me, but Y doesn't know it. Mr. X got Y impressed, and I hide in shadows. Y tells me about him, his looks, his clothes, his voice, his jokes, his gentle, strong hands… Mr. X is hated. Days go by, days that are numbered, and I wish it were his days. Dates go by, dates that are counted, and I wish it were my dates. Mr. X is lucky, and he doesn't know it. Y is happier, cheerful, chipper, and I suspect Mr. X's involvement. I want to be Mr. X, but I

The sun is too far. The warmth is barely felt up here, where the roaring winds abduct kindness as Zeus himself was bound to do when beauty was witnessed, that light waiting to be ravished. My struggle is in vain. There's no pride in my sweat, no redemption, no prize, just the wasting of feathers and the pungent smell of skin charring with the black fire of self-destruction. I knew my ascension was to be my downfall, but I wanted a last look at the heavens above, and to get as close as possible to the home of the gods, so they could hear me -very clearly- cursing them, before I plunged into hell's maw.

Accosted, confronted, I brought my shield up, ready for the attacks. My sword had drawn blood. It was my just punishment. Now, bare-handed, I see the familiar, gleaming steel slashing unabashedly in your accusing hands. Can you not notice how the blood splatters tainting your white robes?

"A wish, anything, just ask me." The angel said, looking at me patiently. I hesitated and pondered for a while. "A wish…" I muttered. "Yes, only one." Replied the holy creature. Few minutes passed while I came up with the perfect answer. "I wish, to never have to wish for anything ever again." The angel smiled and immediately after I heard "Granted." A flash of light followed, and as I was just recovering from the experience, I met you.

Well I have to go. I'll leave my shadow, cold and dark, but still something of mine. An obscure memento, hugging the floor or the wall, running away from the sun, hiding behind me. I'll leave it to you. I have no use for it and you might have. It's my vague image, the hollow dreams of a vacant mind. I'll leave it to you, but just know this, when I'll come back to retrieve it, you won't need it anymore.

I'm asking you, because I am unable to do it, because it is chaos if I use my own hands, but if you break them for me, it would be just salvation. I ask you this favor, because it will be the last one for this old shell of a person, which I will discard only if you help me create my own destruction, my own death and rebirth. I love you dearly but I can't express it as long as I drown and struggle in the solitude of my glass cocoon, surrounded by colorful mirrors, full of wrong reflections. Find me by killing me. Reveal my true self by skinning me alive, because I deserve it, because it's the only way, and I'll

This is my place, my asylum of peace, this damp bend of metallic walls with a dead-end. This is my refuge, despite no light. This is my home, although humble. This is my paradise because it is private, because it is mine, because no matter where I go, whom I meet, or what I do, at the end of the day, there's no place in the whole world this mere, simple piece of the sewer system could not match in elegance and comfort. Rodent or not, you would feel the same if you could only have that little corner in the safety of darkness, with the soothing sounds of water running in the background, allowing you rest of bo

The clarity, the simplicity of things, they all come with age. I have not reached that for my third eye has not opened, even though my other two are tired of seeing the same things that plague my endless routine. Your hand on my shoulder guides me through perfidious nebulas of friends and relatives, but there comes a time when you just push me forward, because you know better, because you've been there, and in your zealousness to drive me towards the purest air, you fail to notice that I have stopped breathing. Don't get me wrong, I love you and your benevolent intentions, but I'd rather stumble and pick myself up,

There he goes, unaware of the cloud above his head, like a kite, it hovers, it counts his every step. When he laughs, it mocks him with a grin, so dark and wet, he can't help if his joy is constantly under threat. There he goes, all alone, hitting every rock and branch on a path, that he heard was so easy, fun and fast. He's tired, cut and bruised, his ego trails behind. The sun cannot go through a canopy so unkind. There he goes, hopeless now, cursing, screaming, at the edge of the world; ruthless, cold, feet slipping off the ledge. An arm is raised, fingers wide, throat is dry, eyes are glazed. With no answer, they bot