I’m lost in imagination.

Dark dreams I see before my waking eyes. Swords. Shadows. The scent of an unknown presence nearby, able to touch me when I can’t see it. Sound of heavy drops of blood on the cold castle stones. The curtains flap in an icy wind that finally makes me feel something.

I wish to yield a sword and murder those ghosts that haunt me, slit their throats and make those foul rotting mouths of deceit stop uttering words of poison. The world is too unreal for me. I do not belong here!!

How I would like to ride away, a dark strong horse under me, free of these lies that can not but destroy me if I have to live amongst them! Don’t they ever see their selves; don’t they ever get sick of their own treacherous ways?! They don’t make sense to me, they only make me want to find someone like me and run.

I’m lost in imagination.

Dark velvet on my pale skin, the wind trying to make the heavy fabric move but it is too strong. I stand in silence, in wind and look at something in the sky. The movement of a creature that is coming closer to where I stand, at the edge of the world. My back turned to those who lie, who hurt and only care to see light, but refuse to accept darkness.

Take me away, my leather winged friend. Fly me through the night, where the cold makes me feel that there is something alive. The world looks dead beneath me, the lights heavily burning, showing everyone the way but bringing them nowhere.

Does lust allow you to feel? My thoughts take me to the wonder that I need pain or drama to make sure I’m alive, that I sense some warmth in me. They don’t feel anymore, they reflect what they would like to feel in images, in material, in hidden thoughts that remain hidden for others won’t accept them. Yet everyone must have them, don’t you think?

I’m lost in imagination.

Decadence is my companion. Watch me slice the throat of those who threaten those few beloved ones I have. Hear me moan under a heavy, warm body of a lover who isn’t mine, in a silk bed that isn’t mine. Look me in the eye when I talk to you about the darkness of my mind, speaking words other dare not but think.

Doesn’t it make you think? I want to run, escape, run wild, and let my imagination take me away. I sense someone in my cold castle, someone like me. Feet creep silently through my halls; hands touch the soft curtains, the cold walls, blindly searching. Somewhere our hands will meet.

Do you hear the sound of blood on cold stone, somewhere in this place? Do you like it? I do not know where it is in my castle someone is dying, do not care whose blood it is and why it is being spilled.

I’m lost in imagination. Do you care to find me?