Milo

She was standing on the shore, her shoes half soaked from the watery surface, looking absently at the island. The house was right in front of her, motionless and calm, as though she was looking at a painting instead of a real motif. Seeing this only reminded her that reality was not much of a factor there. Sometimes she did not even recall what the true meaning of the word was. And moreover, she wasn’t even sure, whether the reality was the stage she wanted to be in right now. 

There was no wind, not a single breeze, everything stuck still so deadly. She looked down at the water and saw reflection of her slender face in the mirror surface of the lake but she did not recognise it anymore. She did not want to. By the sole look at her own shapes she suddenly realised how perfectly they fit to the mortal environment she was part of. As she turned away from the water, she closed her eyes while listening to the lethal tranquility. So many questions circled around her head that she even felt them rambling through her brain. They were getting heavier each moment, causing so much pressure she couldn’t think straight no matter how hard she tried. However, her heart was posing the most importatnt question of all, the question that was inside her from the beginning of this destructive relationship. She wanted to cry it out loud, but all that went out of her dry mouth was a little whisper. As always, there was nothing but the silence answering her from the house. She was pondering over the last few months, wondering how on earth can she even stand on her own feet without collapsing to the soft ground.

Her shoes were now soaking wet and the gentle shiver she felt in her feet was the only motion she was able of. Maybe she should go there and end it for good, but maybe she was too weak to do so. And maybe, just maybe, she had a self-destructive obsession that did not allow her to finish it. Even though her face was pale, her figure skinnier than ever before, and thoughts darker than she had ever imagined, her eyes still radiated vitality. The childish curiosity in her dark blue gaze was resembling two bright lights burning in the distance at the godforsaken sea. Those eyes refuse to give up, they want to see how the story ends. What if there is a next chapter that will bring up an unexpected shift in the story line? What if everyone’s wrong? With that thought she suddenly managed to make a move, and as if there was a new strength coming through her body, she headed towards the bloody red house. 

Milo

Two keys crossing the devil’s chest

Like a wound on a pure white skin

Looking more real than all the rest,

This bloody red house stood still.

Somewhere between the Bermuda triangle

And the island of Atlantis

There was a cuckoo’s nest.

Amid the towns of Geilo and Gol

No house number, no address

Postmen don’t knock on his door,

Returned to sender all the letters.

Though the fish in the lake swam all away,

It attracts her like a magnet

And she is the opposite pole.

Rumour has it he’s a brute, a savage

So they say after the Sunday mass

If you stay here you avoid the damage

Girl, that bridge you should not pass.

But she became deaf to sounds and blind to colours

she only heard and saw

The churchbells announcing a marriage.

On the rainy morning on 13th of July

She wakes up to her dream,

Of the enemy becoming an ally

Who came her soul to redeem.

Been living amongst the dead for many years

And again since becoming a woman

She wants to feel alive.

Sneaks out in secret following her nose

Dressed in a pure white dress

Hasn’t told anyone where she goes,

Leaving behind all her mess.

Cannot wait til she meets the artist

Manic, imaginary, lethal, obedient

She took a love heroin, double dose.

The night when her feet touched his floor

Excited from head to her shoes,

Hasn’t noticed the paintings on the wall

For which she became a muse.

She ate his word one by one and

A few hours later found herself

Drowning in a glass of bordeaux.

Her body tangled with the body of his

Clenched in a cramp of desire and lust,

He made love to her with no compromises

The white dress is now covered in dust.

He was hungry for her like an animal

Getting more lively and strong

The more subtle and fragile she is.

Like a parasite that only can live

While the host body slowly decays

He took from her everything she could give

Sucked like a vampire all juice from her veins.

Like a lonely ship she’s searching for lights

He’s the Californian, guilty of crime

The Titanic will never forgive.

Next to him she was sleeping sound

Her mind obsessed with only one dream,

The nails of a girl scratching the ground

His barn in the backyard echoes with scream.

Red paint now dominates his palette

The brightest of colours straight from the heart

Turning her pain and devotion to art.

The morning was windy and dark

Breeze howling through the window.

As a souvenir there’s a love mark

And a black rose on a pillow.

But the bed is deserted

And she left an empty case

Only her eyes radiated like sparks.

Eyes were intrigued to see the story end

Her body with love shivered

Even the truth could hardly mend

What her dreams destroyed.

Was it just a dream? Maybe it was real...

What does being conscious mean?

To exist now equals to pretend.

On her last supper a la carte,

He served her with immortality.

This is your dream, come and take part-

Being unconscious challanges reality.

Poor poor girl now howls in the barn,

In the deepest fount of his black art,

Where she died of broken heart.