The Boy Across the Castle.

This tale holds its roots in the place of dreams. And this tale’s entities are the faces of a dream. This dream was born out of life. And this life is just like a dream.

I have fallen for the boy across the castle.

I never quite had the time to pay much attention to his body because I was drowning in his eyes. Not because his body wasn’t fair - trust me, it is the embodiment of fairness and the holy grail of human skin - but I felt like anything else for me to do in the whole world besides staring into his eyes would feel like reaching for a shore I never wanted.

Yes, his eyes’ facade was like the most tranquil of seas but beneath them - chaos. A tempest. A wilderness — waves.

And all I wanted - all I needed - was to skinny dip into its waters and suffocate into its depths. I wanted to remain bare and feel their coolness warm and satiate all my primitive demands.

I think I fell in love with the boy across the castle.

The castle. A collection of stones and wood and memories. An obscure relic of times past - of fallen glories, of lives lost. Right across it - his last standing knight.

Devoid of his armour, stripped off his weaponry — the boy had travelled across centuries to find himself wandering the sites where he had once broken the hearts of many a damsel - the pride of many a man.

Seemingly plain and simple, dressed according to this current time, the boy was roaming around the thousands of faces who weren’t blessed and cursed enough to see his timeless existence.

How wonderfully tragic and how tragically beautiful it is to lay one’s eyes on someone and feel birds flying inside one’s chest.

A rainforest of birds had found solace and refuge around my beating heart - like they had awakened from a really deep, long slumber and were longing for life.

I can see the boy moving. Shifting into colours and auras of exhilaration, of beauty, of hunger.

I am euphoric, my heart is dancing fervently.

Seeing the purple rivers in his hands causes me thirst — a need to drink from the liquids that give him life - to feed off the flesh that embraces his historic bones.

And yet, all I want to do for the rest of my time was fixate my eyes on his and let them suck all the oxygen I had in me - leave me breathless and helpless but still gasping for more.

The moment my hand faintly touched his — a volcano erupted inside of me and our craters - once emptied off life - clashed against one another and a natural catastrophe was born to unfold its madness into the world.

Had my lips met someone else’s for the first time? Had my fingers never brushed against anybody’s skin before? Had my arms held nobody — had my forehead never been kissed prior to that day? All these questions and countless more rushed into my mind and, suddenly, I felt like I had just been born.

I was clueless. But whilst my mouth intertwined with his — I was filled with a fire, a passion, an intimacy that only reside in one’s certain knowing of one’s desires. A definite perception of knowledge. A strong will. The truth.

I am unravelling these words with blurry eyes.

I dare not dream. I dare not hope.

The boy across the castle cannot become flesh and bones.

Once you think, you dream. When you dream, you fantasise. And when the fantasies occupy your mind, presence haunts your heart.

Was this a fragment of imagination? Is my knight not mine?

Will this pool of beauty take or give me life?

I can feel the shivers crawling up my spine —

The boy’s charm penetrates my torso like a knife.

An excruciating death - a most exquisite downfall —

By someone so infinitely beautiful, so utterly magnetic.

Like a moth to a flame, my whole existence found and landed on his and like a magnet I was unable to flee.

Perpetually drawn — lovingly spellbound.

His beauty ravished my breath away and disarmed my mind.

Every time I look at him, I can hear the skies sing and the wind engulfing me.

I can feel a lake being born underneath me — a pond of water whose sole and only desire is to have him drown in it.

Suffocate, delve into its core and drain it with force.

He was my knight and I became his castle and all I wished was for him to

invade its walls and unleash a hurricane of insanity — 

a sequence of sighs and screams and words no language has ever heard —

an explosion of boiling yearning —

like hot lava on the harsh softness of

shivering, naked flesh.