A place of the soul that is called angel

Common REM simulations, eyes move under closed eyelids, random orders from the brain claim dominion. They arouse the body by using fragmentary thoughts and memories, or sometimes by abusing deranged wishes and desires. A dream that lasts as a breath in real time, but thorough as an entire age in this region of the mind. And this is how we achieve immortality, by living thousands of years in one.

We breathe in this perpetual duality of existence, in the place of the soul that is called angel, where waken thought is being created showing us the path to all of our secret seas in this life. There we sail into waves of alluring mystic crossing the nonexistent border between what’s ethereal and that which is deemed as real. Life becomes blessing, a region of magic..

And this shadow has been killed a long time ago, just like Corto’s… and all I have left are my dreams – and they’re chasing!

Miracles happen - they conquer...

In the basic structure we’re thoughtful beings. We reason, strive toward choice, we solve, build and create… so, intellectually we go somewhere. Beneath all of our intellectual potentials we’re only emotional creatures – we feel, act and react. And once in a blue moon, miracles happen – they conquer…

… in comes this creature in form of a woman, angel and demon exactly in the proportion I simply adore. It took me only a moment to recognize her. I wasn’t looking for what she represents, nonetheless she came, kind of felt invited and I didn’t even have to invite her. She accepts willingly this total composition of harmony and chaos that I’m made of. She loves and holds deep under her skin, every single creature that I represent. With her graces and fury she snatches me, and takes me away in a world within this world – in the cupola of us two.

So, I react and she becomes the single most important thing. Every single moment without her is passed in waiting... So, I’m all in!

So, I turn to you;)

I’ve taken you for granted, you – 20% angel and 80% devil. You – my addictive drug, my terminal condition by choice. Ruining the most of me, eroding the very essence of me; leaving only perversion behind in its raw occult form. Your flesh – my existential need, your juices – my obsessive way of surviving on this edge of us. So, I turn to you – my hide, my haven, my two – legged personal hell of mine… I turn to you!

Your claim on me is total, beyond life and reality. I’m yours, for bad and worse. Own me, shred me, leave a hurting mark on every piece of me, recreate me which ever way you see fit – as long as your devilish self prevails. Your undisputed deranged savage slave, my youth and my wicked all – your possession to have, only to turn me… so, I turn to you!

You’ve started this, so allow me to tune it up. The idea is… we’re hardly ever fresh out of ideas, so… I turn to you;)