• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 05

Crimson red madness

Sometimes, if not always, it seems my mouth contains the mechanism of a music box
Contains is the wrong word
My entire head is kept prisoner to that evil thing
And, no, no music poured down of him
No, words, rivers of words
Like a flood, like an ocean...
I screech from the teeth night and day
One more sound to my ordeal
No corks around to put a stop to the insanity
Suddenly it seemed alright
To pretend I am a bird to pick in my perfect white teeth a twig
To start building a nest for my madness acceptance
The silence spreads itself like a crimson red lipstick all over the mirrors