Tag Archive: love nope I don’t think so


He had simply left, his power gone, his money not.

Went for far away refuges, man amongst men speaking many tongues.

Fought  for wavering rightful causes, cried for solid dreams made of clay.

Bittersweet the day he returned where no-one remembered the slick handsome beast now made man and scarred by truths.

Years had left lines on his noble profile and wear on his clothes, specks of early silver in his hair.

Heart beating a stoic rhythm under tanned skin, eyes placid and mindful.

Steps surer in a long ago city he still remembered but no more owned or wanted.

The old concrete, the harsh light reflecting in the windows high above.

Summer was in full swing as the roses in the park bloomed and died in the span of a few hours.

Sickly sweet wisteria hanging limply from balconies, children running amok in the muddy shore by the lake.

Every path freshly covered in grey gravel.

He found that afternoon to be a shade of lie he could stand, softly blurring the edges of his vision; a picturesque world long gone.

Grass bending gently to the breeze, white jasmine flowers weaved in crowns over young girls hair.

The pale green of her dress was the first thing he saw.

Tiny bare feet peeked through the hem and hid in the grass as the leaves overhead moved.

Peaceful sleep softened her features, the dark silk of her hair cushioned her head, lavender wafting gently to his nose.

Was she part of that sunny lie?

Cold as winter, so long gone.

There he sat, patience now his to nurture.

The sun slowly descending, bright amber green rays on her face.

A hand in his lap while she yawned and stretched like a cat.

Eyes on him, sharp and searching, half-relief half-suspicion in the steel gray.

You never told me your name, Nemesis.

Her smile true, her voice soft.

You never asked yet you find me, Narcissus.


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She walked and walked under the sun.

Of course she already knew of the High Castle’s fire but nothing more.

The voices of before now gone.

Mirrors erased.

Doubts taking hold.

Quicksilver eyes lost into reverie.

They called him Adone, still.

The thought saddened her to the very core.

As if a side of the beast survived when I know it did not.

Stubborn like a goat, quick like a fox, mindful like a wolf on the hunt.

Slaved to a living lie.

Sun scorched her dark hair like a flame and she reposed under a tree.

And what dreams you dream, fairer lady amongst fair?

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“Have you heard about Adone, dear?”

“Do tell!”

Pointed chins, diamonds and  pearls on thin necks, little bifurcated tongues wetting fat lips.

“Seems he went absolutely bonkers, such a fine handsome man he was…” a sharp turn of a perfectly manicured hand with two-inch claws “You remember that little, insignificant, mangy, blind girl? Yes, just the one with those dull eyes…so scary…seems she died.”

“Shame.” I don’t care in the slightest…but do tell me more!

Smile before another drop of evil fell from painted lips “Indeed! Such intelligence and handsomeness thrown away just for a little stupid no-one…well, seems my perfect son – you know my kind depraved, invincible coward, strong weakling darling! – was out with friends one of these nights doing what good, young gentlemen ought to do and…you know the High Castle, that beautiful place he had was heaping with flames. Mind! It was the finest for a bachelor house, the grandeur, the richly furnished bar, the beautiful soirees…at least before he stumbled on that little rat.”

A pause while sipping white tea.

“Did he die?”

“He wasn’t there, they say. No-one knows…maybe he found his way under a slab to find her!”

Dry high laughter while pointy tails swished gaily from the shadows projecting on the wall.

Or maybe you should try the weight of the slab you so desire.

A pair of orbs smoldered in the tea shop, a rough voice lethal in the racket.

The sun-drenched room went frigidly cold as the two old hens stood agape at the very same dead rat.

Eyes burned in her lean face, pale but very much alive.

Little but imposing, her chin up and nostrils wide, natural red lips thinned in deadly fury.

I think you need some more fun activities in your miserable life.

Her voice had a cutting edge, low and final before she took for the door.

Starting now.

The heavy tablecloth took on fire like tinder on their faces and soon the place smelled of burned flesh.

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Winter thawed in mud and decay.

He didn’t watch.

The casket lid splattered in sodden earth.

Silence and sounds of misery.

He still had more than any man or woman could want.

He didn’t have what he wanted above all.

The high castle a dark cave, echoing his steps.

He couldn’t find the mirror, solace to make him blind.

What would it be in its depths now?

Sun-blinded eyes over water.

White cherry flowers floating in sewers.

High ceilings encased in flames of lead.

Yet searching for a neon-lit name mounted over the grand entrance of Limbo.

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She fell ill.

Mercury spouted in big mouthfuls, silvery venomous pools.

Some days she couldn’t see at all, others her mind was blind.

She never crazed, never fevered, never closed her eyes.

Adone watched while her skin took a grainy quality and almost glowed in the night.

A drop of silver on her lower dry lip.

Her voice cracked like static.

Have you found your name?


There is power…in a name.


Give yourself a name and you might be found.

Her hand twitched and fell from his fingers.

The deamon-eyed shrew never drew another breath for she became moonlit stone.

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Snow stopped, blinding under a clear blue sky.

Melting under the sun’s metallic light.

She couldn’t keep her eyes open, agonizing in dark rooms.

She was prescribed a plethora of things but nothing would do to ease the torment.


Voices echoed into the high castle, no-where to be found.

You defeated the mirror and freed the man from the beast, witch.

We will now take what of you remains.

Fear not as the pain won’t ease, you shall burn as the molten core in your blind eyes.

Ghostly white, she walked slowly in the renewed dark.

Bones protruding slightly from her back.

Dry, laborious breaths.

Yes, the mirror’s dead. She admitted with a smile

I don’t fear death for you all will accompany me, Deamons or voices I shall not spare anyone.

Write your sins into the core, just believe in your free will.

You won’t return.

I will, in time.

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His sight was clearer, alert but she was the exact same.

Sharp features, dark hair and striking eyes half-seeing.

Pale, not exactly beautiful.

Fine to his eyes, cold to the touch.

We should go back.

She watched him then nodded, her lips a shade of blue over the red.

Back at the castle she didn’t warm easily as he had hoped.

They watched snowfall together, her head on his breast while sirens echoed the arrival of a severe storm.

Will you give me a name?

She laughed weakly.

No, you should do that yourself.


It will come to you, I’m sure.

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A new Eos.

White muted light under a dove grey sky.

Sharp wind of early morning trough naked trees.

Winter still.

A little warm hand nestled in his, an anchor safe and truer than his sight was before.

For he could see now.

The harsh lines of concrete, the raised voices and dirty pavements.

Columns of smoke where Once-Men huddled for warmth.

Little dirty houses, crooked and decaying.

Enormous eyes in hollow children’ faces.

Dark rooms and hard stares in the stale air.

Brutal was the sight, monstrous.

For hell’s just beneath the thin oily film of the river he swam.

Heaven is a man’s illusion. She murmured calmly at his side A final idea made of innuendo quotes.

A big round mirror in which the world reflects perfect and whole.

Is it perfect, whole?

Every step deeper in the lie, less you see it more you ignore it as truth is not something anyone wants nowadays.

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He didn’t know the answer, for life never put him on the line.

And her hands felt like a balm on his skin, sinking deep down and feeding little morsels of peace into his soul.

Tranquility found where her sharp claws had torn him many a time to shreds.

The soft wool of her sweater under his palms.

A new spell cast, a hold of black steel.

Her low rough voice vibrating on his neck.

You will divest this cage, shed the beastly coil, leave the lies and see the world with my eyes tomorrow morning.

No more mirrors between you and reality.

No more Adone, tomorrow you shall be man.

Somewhere in the distance a howling sound as the ugly, cracked looking glass found his final resting place in pieces on the green marble floor.

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Her half seeing eyes glowed in the darkness, a silent question from where she lay.

You missed dinner.

There, in the night, slowly a smile crept.

On her face, her lips, her eyes.

For even not knowing she always knew.


Adone turned, suddenly disgusted, ready to forgive and forget on the cold bottom of a bottle.

But it wasn’t to be done.

She turned him back to her, eyes large and trustful, little tiny hands like pure white doves on his coat.

Come near the fire, let me see the human eyes you always hide from me.

Her voice sad, old like he felt.

Her fingers on his cheek, warm and gentle.

I longed for this glance.

Have you found a shred of sympathy? Have you seen what life can do to the best of men?

For poverty and misfortune are no laughing matters.

A poor man can be honourable and share his tepid little meal with no reserve.

Tell me in confidence, for your pride is still too great to say it, have you found your human heart?

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Winter persisted.

Everything an easel to work ice into intricate shapes of beauty.

Soon wind chill, soon death.

He worked late that night, mindless of the snowstorm, weary of returning.

Cold jewels crowning his head, well fed and clothed, without a care for the world he strolled down.

The back alley sparsely lit but a faster way to the castle.

He didn’t mind, never he had feared darkness.

But the dark pleaded, begged with the voice of man and fever-lit eyes.

Man looked upon man.

Cold light reflected in his eyes as thunder stroke.

The beggar was unlike him, he thought.

Half dragged, half supported he weighed less than a feather in his hold.

Dirt over him was an unthinkable first, shows of gratitude for once unasked and unwanted.

Neon light downed upon their heads and warmth burned his skin, biting bitterly.

At last the shelter, filled with raucous sounds and weak men’s miseries.

The concrete floor wet and unclean, air steaming from the many big pots of the poor’s canteen.

It was much later he found his way back into the castle clean, warm and dark atrium.

Tiredness leeched into his limbs as the night was growing already old and no-one had awaited.

No-one except her.

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Her sight was coming back slowly and so very fast.

She smiled more now, dimples showing in her finely shaped cheeks.

Medical checks were more and less far between.

No witchcraft! She exclaimed amused to him one dinner What if I’m strong enough to survive?


She seemed incapable to see life in any other way.

Like a wild animal, Adone thought, a prowling little carnivore with the courage to bite anything bigger and turn out the victor.

He had noticed a distinct change for some time now, as the snow drifted far below.

For she searched his company in the half-light, dragging him into unending conversations through the long winter nights.

A nice change that showed she was educated in many a subject unfit for the likes of a female.

Mechanics, chemistry, physics, architecture, mathematics, astronomy and a disconcerting way of playing the piano.

The first time he heard her play the music filled his lungs like hissing lava, tea agitated in the clinking china and every string in the piano humming alive.

Her fingers brutal on the keys from Contra to Great, firm from Small to the Two-line and featherlike on the higher octaves.

She was far from a perfect player but it was like nothing he ever heard: a soul gutted out from an inanimate object and forced into shape, feeling and voice.

Her half-seeing eyes wide open, fixed in concentration, the muscles in her arms tense and ready to leap.

Never had she looked so beautiful.

There to master, conquer and slay.

Eyes burning, sound deafening and you tied to her on a thin string knotted beside your hairy heart, tin man.

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The old Year is dead. Long live the Year!

They went out again.

For the first time he wasn’t very interested in feeding his vanity, but his presence was requested and he couldn’t decline.

In a moment of madness he asked her and she smiled.

It was bitterly cold, Adone wrapped her in the softest fur two hours before the end of the year.

Her steps surer but he still guided her on his arm.

In their private booth, lights doused, the tiny stones pinned in her hair shined like stars giving her an eerie quality.

That night was so different for she talked softly to him, her midnight blue silk dress rustling when she moved and leaned her head on his shoulder with ease.

Lavender sharp in his nose, reminding him of spent dreams unmade.

For this was an illusion, a trick reflection, a spun web made of glass.

No reality could hold.

Adone stood stock still, polite and smiling to anyone but her.

For the dream had lost its luster and the beast the need to sharp his claws.

Her snares were just unworthy of his attention.

Fine china he could find, silken hair and a willing faceless body too.

A faceless body, yes. Admitted the mirror, mildly interested with no tongue or words a-flame.

I wonder, tin man, what lies are you concocting under that little helmet you wear, so little it’s getting tighter around your inflated head.

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The anger didn’t subside under a veil of cinder.

Every night two doors closed, steps muffled and clinking of glass, the murmur of a brush through hair and some low humming.

We are such good friends! She exclaimed one night, oddly sweet and peering from between her lashes.

His hands trembled badly, the liquor spilling from the sides of the glass.


If she noticed the dry tone she didn’t appear to, a silvery laugh started in her throat.

I will see again! Again!

It was fact now as shapes where taking form before her, especially in the semi darkness.

Her happiness a blind flame sunlit while winter approached slowly swooping low.

Sea wind, first frost.

Clouds of lead storming high.

Howling and running like a horde over the city.

As the tempest approached the tired mirror churned.

Little soldier…have you ever thought what a prize is defeat?

You never learned to be content.

Shame on you.

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No fear and no glance.

A calm heartbeat beneath his fingers.

Mouth set, chin up.

You never had a true understanding of love and care.

You, recipient of empty adoration, gatherer of false empathy.

You don’t have a beating heart in your breast but an angry mouth full of teeth.

Show me, then. She provoked with a smile Try that mouth on me and feel pain.

Beyond that declaration life went on.

Adone loathed her for she was hard as nails and he had fallen down into a pit of savagery.

The beast was coming alive, hour upon hour, slitted yellow eyes and deadly clawed paws.

Ownership and dominance deep into its growl.

White hands, fragile bone china, on its cheeks.

Silky night shrouded him in perfume.

Tin man…you’re slipping and what’s worse is that she knows. The mirror called lazily, swinging from side to side, counting time. She knows and will strike you when the final blow will hurt you more.

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