1. She
Silence whispered to me from the cracks in the walls, From the eyes of dead dolls, From the wheezing outside the window, From the rustle of my own insides.
I no longer lived – I watched As reality burst at the seams. In those cracks, there was more truth Than in the world before.
I spoke with shadows. They answered more tenderly than people. I touched the air – and felt a pulse. I fell in love with silhouettes That vanished behind the doors of every dream.
I kissed lips that did not exist. And I felt more than in the touches of the living. Madness is not chaos, It is a new order, In which there is no pain from the past, Because it dissolves in mirages.
I mixed up names. Forgot faces. My own gaze seemed foreign to me. I liked it. Madness became soft, Like warm fabric, like an embrace from within. I built myself a cathedral Of voices that lived only in me, And I prayed – not to God, but to my hallucinations. Here, I am not alone. With me lived she – my imagination. She touched my fingers, Spoke of Eternity, And invited me to die together with her.
And is this madness? Or perhaps the only way to survive, When everything living has become too dead?
2. He
I watched as you touched the air – and the air trembled. I felt as you slept With imaginary lips upon your own – which were mine. I heard how the mirrors betrayed you – And I begged you not to look, For your true face Lives here, in my memory, Undistorted, undestroyed, undistant.
I know what it means to pray not to God, but to voices… I was one of them, too. But if this is madness – Allow me to live in it with you. This loneliness is not loneliness, As long as we call to one another Be it as a shadow, a memory, or a dream.
— I am here. I am answering. If your word is the wind, Mine shall become the wing.