The devil is at his strongest while we’re looking to the other side, like a programme running in the background silently, while we are busy watching ourselves bleed the colours of the dark corrosive rain, the veins pop the taste of the red viscous fluid flowing all over your body, when your insides are flipped and the only thing you feel is the slow dying sound of your breath, the last moments of your pain, it will end soon!
The realization of time as it slips away as you lie there, drowning in the pool of your blood, the heart beats to survive, the beauty in the suffering, watching yourself drift away, away from the silent nights, the chirping birds you hear as you sip the morning coffee, the touch of the newspaper you read daily, the perfect loop you created for yourself programmed for you to never see it spinning like a cinema reel in front of your eyes.
Pain turning into acceptance and then vanishing into absence like it was never there, presence feels like an illusion, the little boy that knocked on your clean car window, that bugging feeling of the dirt stuck on your perfectly clean plastic glass from his dirty grey hands, the hands of the boy, a life, a human, gone. Your jet blue car manufactured in Indonesia assembled in China shipped in to your country and “owned” by you, the feeling of control, power, the feeling of being secure even on the coldest of the nights as you lie on your bed, the comfort of the warm and cosy blanket over you protecting the dying self inside this filthy body!
As you look up into the sky the stars that twinkle like the ones in your nursery rhyme, the slightest blip of memory comes back to you, too quick to notice, the sounds of people and human kind cleaning the stains of your blood as you go away.