My mind seemed fuzzy, as I danced around my room.
My soul had been dipped in blood, and a crazed grin spread across my face.
I stepped on shattered ceramic, loving the blood oozing between my toes. The pain.
I danced. Around. And around. And around.
"Like a carousel!" I screamed. "Like a freaking carousel!"
Dizzy.
Dizzy.
Dizzy.
CRAZY.
Dizzy.
Dizzy.
Dizzy.
Limbs had been town of from my victims, and they were scattered across the room, with the pieces of broken ceramic.
I picked up an arm and hugged it. I loved my victims, I loved them, I loved them, I loved them.
Dizzy.
Dizzy.
Dizzy.
Crazy.
Blood, blood, blood...
I jumped onto my bed, and stuffed my mouth with pillow. I laughed into it. I laughed so hard tears streamed from my eyes.
DIZZY CRAZY DIZZY CRAZY DIZZY DIZZY DIZZY DIZZY BLOOD
I hugged a leg. "I LOVE YOU, VICTIMS!" I screamed.
BLOOOOOD
I laughed again, and rubbed my streaming eyes with a cold finger. I jumped off my bed again, and stomped on the broken ceramic. Broken broken BroKeN cccccCRRRRaaazy #]]#}[=+#\>6/)@~;9<0.(9<{#>\=.7/0(, CRAZY
I laughed into a head.
BROKEN BROKEN CRAZY
Life is like riding a Carousel
While tripping on acid
One moment you are fine
Having fun even
The next
Your mind is fucked
As you watch the ceramic horses blur with the music
A ride which will not end
No matter how much you beg the roadie to turn it off
Standing in the middle
As the shrill laughter reminds you of your shattered life
Emptiness dipped with a sugar coating
Is that supposed to make you smile?
Or are you supposed to ignore heavens price?
Paying the toll with your soul blood
Happy Spring
Spinning
Spinning
Spinning
Spinning
Never losing
Never winning
Around
Around
Around
We go
Upon our twisted carousel
The Lennox lamb
Glaze dipped doll
The ceramic
Porcelain pig
Momentary ballet
Twirling flashes
Goes round and round
Goes wrong and wrong
One by one
Losing footing
Losing grip
Off the sides we slip
Shattered souls
Blood-less beings
Rigid replicas
Of actual Beauty
Minds of mimicry
Mime crying
Delusional illusional
Broken bastards
Her Mind
Her mind, twisted beyond repair. One moment she'd dream of carousels, and the next of a heartless soul. One moment of a ceramic goddess, and the next of a butcher's knife dripping blood. One moment of an ice cream dipped in chocolate, and the next of a shattered mirror whose reflection didn't match. Her mind was twisted beyond repair, no matter how much she tried.
I could never resist a Carousel. There was something magical about riding a ceramic horse around in circles to the tinkle of an invisible xylophone. My mind and soul could fly. Then it happened. I grew up. A REAL horse shattered my illusion. It threw me into the thorny hedgerow. Dipped, so to speak, in blood, I am now smarter. I'm sticking with the bronco made of plastic.
Carousel
The lights swirled around us and captured our bodies, blanketing our minds. We threw our heads back and caught the air, smiling wide, breathing deeply. The trees, the sand, the pink top of the carousel, the mirror, the horses, all swirled and swirled on and on. We were no longer in our bodies.
An old myth that says voodoo will leave you on that very carousel for eternity and you never are able to turn back. We didn't believe it until this day. The day we took our visit to Elazier's. She made yoke and placed our nails in a ceramic dish. Enchantments, hymns, seeped through her soul. She pricked us with a needle and we bled. With our blood we filled the very bottom of the bowl. She shattered our depths with truths of eternity in this damned placed and dipped us in its hell. Before we left, she whispered, "carousel."
When we walked outside we heard carnival music off in the distance behind the forest's trees. Even if we tried to resist we couldn't help but walk towards it. Once there, we found it. We found the only thing that would make our souls flourish, the carousel.
Close
The smooth, tidy turn of the mall carousel calms me, so I sit, and I stare. Pleasures are few for a shattered mind like mine, and they are simple, and they are fragile. I feel it close again, so close... Like if I stared a bit longer, it'd all come together. I'd finally be one again. I'd feel my own soul again.
But I'm not blessed with that blessing, no. The feeling fades, slips back out of reach, and God and self seem far away again. The innocents and adversaries are now ceramic dolls and demons, respectively. A hard, wicked hand touches my shoulder. I don't fight it; demons are far too common to fight them all. His voice asks me to leave, and still, it seems all too common.
I grew up with eyes fixed on the flickering god in the corner of the living room, but at seventeen, like so many others, I was thrust into a dusty tan reality that I didn't even understand. And this reality had feelings and fatigue, screams that couldn't be turned down with a remote control, and smells.
Smells, like fear dipped in sweat and blood.
Yeah, I'll leave.