4:30 AM

At 4:30 AM, I transformed into a ball of human skin as I laid my aching body on the lonely side of my bed. No breath to be taken, and no words to be said.
Aghast and in tremor, the weight of aloneness struck me like lightning on a tempestuous night; a long and incessant calling of anguish and emotional fright.
What did I ever do to deserve such a solitary life? Is it me, was it my parents or our strife combined?
Hidden and in safe distance from my own self, I closed my eyes in search of distraction but into bitter laughter I burst as there was no way out of this putrefaction.
"You are one silly lass," I could hear the head telling the heart in a scolding manner, "you expect the wind to caress your skin while enclosed in your own prison of a manor".
Dark and tall and made of invincible matter, you have ensnared yourself in a haunted house; and whilst you may think you are a mighty cat, you are nothing but a terrified mouse.

Frankly, I have always wanted to live in a gallery. To roam around the seemingly solitary rooms full of faces of the past and listen to their silent and tranquil whispers.
"Can you hear it?", one mouth would quietly say, "can you hear the temperature of the air falling? Falling deeper and deeper into its own self - getting sharper, turning crisper?"
I have always pictured nakedness in a gallery. Erik Satie echoing through the corridors and a naked body feeling watched by hundreds of starving eyes.
Immersed into exposure and through the catharsis of truth, inside a whirlwind of eroticism; drowned by the volcanic redemption of passionate cries.
I have always wanted to drink red wine while staring at the painting of a mountain or sip on whisky while losing myself in the canvas of a maiden murdering her love.
Because what could be more tragically poetic than your very own tale of self-destruction? Of violently ending the one person who would elevate you beyond and above.

Long after 4:30 AM, my exhausted mortal coil still laid on the lonely side of my bed. Trying to revive the fleeting yet jolly moment of the End hovering over me, taking me for dead.
My skin was covered in shivers and my eyes were flooded by tears - my trembling hands were empty and my chest was exposed to my all-engulfing fears.
"You are such a fool, my darling" the murmur of the universe resounded through my cold bedroom floor, "you keep cutting your own wings when you could soar".
"But how, lovely voice of the night, could I possibly fly if I were to enjoy the view of the once lonely earth from an equally lonely sky?"
A creature buried deep inside a fortress of confinement I may be, but once in a blue moon, I too imagine myself surrendering into love and fantasy.