A DIALOGUE BETWEEN A WOMAN AND HER SHADOW, UPON DISBELIEF


PART 1. THE DAY OF INSOMNIA

http://mariannainsomnia.deviantart.com

witch_by_pure_insomnia-d5cp5g1

A hunt for me, then? It is adulterous to be part of

a woman hunt.

In the eyes of a cold-blooded fraud

two fangs
words of betrayal clad

in banal f(loe)llow-up

For all those ice-skating fans

A killer whose mum
is a foretold habit!

(footnote „Silence, the Habit of a Killer…“, half of the 777th verse…)

Killers kill too, do they not?

Prove to me, o Lord, that your

mercy is not a concocted sentiment…
That warmth isn’t a grave of

cad falsehoods
Let him prove himself to me!

Do you hear, God,

this blasphemeress!
(a hysterical  shriek in the background)

Prove it, show yourself, God,

you blasphemous coward!
No, I am not raising my tone, I am screaming!

Not one
mortal… no… no… he could never hear
the foretuned idiotic cackle,

behold where he says, that it is but

an insane woman, flayed.

And she does not know…

…. Where begins, and where ends the memory of

arrogance, of

the black, fateful, deadly act

Of mum

(stands silent without respite, listens without respite, ascertains from his throne, with virtuous hostility, pathologically scribbling with silence, the medical holy sacrament of misery)

I curse the day at the deathbed of anguished love
she is exhaling already, her fingers are exhaling…

And, how did she depart?

(does not reply, is convulsing)
I will curse the day when I met the freak who
for years has terrorized me with silence,

vileness and will write atop his head the date and hour

and will mumble: immorality!

immorality!

I curse your corpse, with all due respect

to the deceased

A nutcase less, but a new one lives
more complex, keen on skepticism and truths. A seeker.

I powdered myself for three days to make…
a catafalque for the deceived dead
lied down in the position of a temperamental countess
with rouged cheeks and no dental crown
is there anything else that is unclear in this report?

Do you have any poem where you’re not full of drama?

Oh, yes and she said to me:

I lied, I lie,

everyone lies, I killed,

they all kill,

God are you laughing!
Or are you bored?

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Author: Leila Samarrai

I am a person of Himalayan seclusion, I am Atalanta in vestments of Helen of Troy, for me there is no term (aphorism there is, maybe). Cosmopolitan is too modest word for one who wanders across epochs without the help of the time machine. Some people consider me weird, because usually this is so when they do not understand something or someone that do not represent their existence. I love cats, an animals in general, I like challenges, I am persistent, I am combative (sometimes I can exaggerate in that - in all) If I were stylistic figure my mortal name would be Hyperbole. Read me. Know me. Conquer me :)

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