Diseased desire. 

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 I have sinned.       

      The controversial weather was scary but perhaps, I was more afraid of my own thoughts than that. 

She exaggerated with her mind traveling. The raven’s eyes were stuck in her mind; their dark color was provocative. She was rubbing her finger over her lower lip, slowly while the saliva was gathering in the center of her mouth. It has been days since the stubborn desire had settled inside her and believe me or not, it was a torture. She had the permission to desire anything she wanted; the raven was forbidden. 

That was unscrupulous. The raven is sadistic and yet, sentimental, in the most provocative way. I have seen it around people; it shatters whatever is in the way of the desired object. She was mesmerized by this self-impotency that it inflicted to the crowd. Although aware of this nefarious thought, she is not able to forget it. In such an attempt, she margined herself from the world. She confessed to no one but herself this diseased desire. The world seemed of such pureness. Such a confession would have been a great disappointment. Does the raven know though? Did the devil tipped it off about the ailing needs of an insane woman? What if the insane woman, she and the devil shared the same face? She was still flattering her lower lip with gestures. Her face-lines disappeared. 

A ponder on a human soul.

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You asked me where have I gone. I answered ”here”. But my voice was silent. I was mute, incapable to scream loudly where I am. But I’m here. You don’t know this because you’re blind. You cannot see me through your majestic shades and I fear there is nothing to be done anymore. The volume of my voice cannot increase anymore. My heart beats are too loud. But nobody can hear them. Neither you. Your faces are masked. You wear a mask of ego. The neighbour wears a mask of money. I wear a mask of pain. My friend wears a mask of nothingness. So that’s it. We are all wearing masks, covering our inner selves, imploring for someone to break them without giving our permission. Don’t you think that’s too much to ask for from another human being? Who is he to shave away my pain? Who am I to fight his ego?
We do not bother ourselves. We try nothing and we accomplish nothing. We starve ourselves and then we’re fed so we don’t die. Isn’t it ironic? We starve ourselves from truth and we’re fed with big fat lies. In the morning we complain about our situation and at night we hope for the best tomorrows. But we do nothing. We breath in polluted air and exhale some more garbage to the world. We become an intoxication for our own kind. We are drugged by other human beings; knowing that they can either be our paradise or our inferno. I suppose the next rhetoric question I should be asking is whether that’s a good or a bad thing, but I am not. I am sure you are already asking yourself that or something similar. Aren’t you?
If you are not, maybe you should worry. Or you must definitely worry.
My soul is made of glass. The outline is thick and forms a perfect circle. It resembles to a ball of fire. Sometimes steel. Mostly though it’s glass. It can break easily but the fire still exists, containing it, keeping it intact. My mask is made of pain. Some may say it resembles to my soul. Others claim there is no pain inside me, just a failure that I’m trying hard to bring upon myself. I don’t know which theory applies in my case but I wish none are true.
My heart’s state is variable. There is mostly pain; the kind of pain that consumes me, burns my insides and somehow feeds me hope. My soul, I’ve seen, is more than glass and fire, or steel. My soul is blue, green and red. My soul is a mixture of clouds and oceans, soaked summer grass and extracts from extraterrestrial lands. My soul is made of what I am fed and I dare saying, my food is love and hate.

Delirium.

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   I am asking you humans, have you ever felt like dying of happiness? I know pain is a murderer but have you been thinking of happiness killing you sweetly, slowly and ravishingly? I am feeling it now. Dying of happiness. I am chocking on my own laughter. The image of his eyes, his smile, his hands touching me, I feel my feet unworthy of standing and walking on earth. Perhaps I am already floating on a cloud, raised to heavens and seeing shadows of a rainbow reflected on my smile. You lay me down and hand me your soul. I have already locked it inside me next to your heart, next to mine. I cannot percept of having enough of you ever. Your words and perfume are guiding themselves into me, struggling to reach into my every little thin corner. I am asking you once again; have you ever been suffocated of happiness? I find it hard to breath. The time that I am away from you I find it hard to breath. I am becoming nonsensical, in desperate need of you. I claim there is only one minute, one long minute that I wish I could turn it into ashes and fly myself in your arms. Ah my love! You give me nonsensical thoughts and firstly-felt feelings. Who would ever think of being gifted with such wonderful messy emotions? I need you. I want to sin with you inside me. I want to inhale you and let you breath through me. I want my bones dissolving on your touch. We both crave for each other. That last sentence which you exclaimed to me is still haunting me sweetly.  My mind runs wildly to you again, now, before now, tomorrow and every millisecond of my breathing days. 
Once I open my eyes from what this seems as a nightmare; being away from you; I have you in front of me. Smiling brightly, proudly. But then, I close my eyes again and I am trapped in a ravishing dream. I am climbing on top of an oak tree admiring the sun hiding behind his marvelous hays. I smile at him as he fills me with more happiness. It seems like the sun and you are one and the same. Where am I ? I wonder as my face expresses my mind’s state. I am stuck between what’s supposed to be life and my own intense dream. I am in a delirium. Perhaps I should stop wondering. Wherever I am, whatever I am now, I am yours. You are keeping me still and safe in your arms, feeding me warmth and light. I am embracing what I’ve become for that matter and you are not letting me go. The oak tree dissolves with my dream and my reality. I am here, wherever I am, with you.