viernes, 18 de enero de 2008

Last Hope Motel: Devourer

The blood dries in my mouth while the tiny scraps of flesh lie scattered on the blankets. As I look away the sunlight slowly leaves the room through the window throwing me into this darkness, a darkness only lit by the neon sign outside... Tomorrow there won't be a beautiful dawn to stare at, the same way as there won't be someone to share this cold and cloudy night.

It was supposed to be perfect, I know. After you helped me run away from my home there was nothing that could get between us... except ourselves.
I shouldn't have left you, but I panicked. I'm aware I'm just a stupid little girl for running away... I feel so miserable for hurting you...

...I take another bite ripping off a little more skin...

I think of you often. I want to see you again, to hold you... my fingers dial your number with a will of their own, but I can't bring myself to talk to you 'cause I know you're never coming back with me; not since I left in the middle of the night, scared of committing to you...

Now I have nowhere to go; I have no family and no lover; there's no one to look after me. This anxiety's driving me mad... The only thing I do is sit on this corner and eat my fingernails, desperately... what am I saying? I ate my fingernails already... so I've began to tear the flesh off my fingers... if only the pain and the taste of blood in my mouth could cast away this emptiness I'm feeling...

...In this motel days go by one after another monotonously... and I can't sleep with you still living inside of me...

martes, 1 de enero de 2008

Last Hope Motel: Memories.

I’ve been driving for hours, wandering. Suddenly I see a diner at the side of the road. I park my car and go inside. The place's gloomy and dirty, like if it were abandoned years ago... it feels so lonely... there's only another customer beside me; I can't see him clearly but he appears to be an old man. I sit down and order a lime pie; I’m asked in return where I’m heading. “I don’t know” I answer. The old waitress goes to the counter to get my pie and comes back with it. “Well my dear, If you follow that road, after a couple hours you’ll see neon lights in the horizon. If you don’t know where to go, go there” she says with an afflicted grimace.

I ask her for a pencil and a piece of paper; she kindly hands them to me. I start writing: “So here I am, writing this letter to you. I haven’t done this in a while… I don’t recall the last time I wrote a letter to anyone… I never wrote you a letter... It doesn’t matter anyway.

I miss you so much... I miss the way your harsh look can be so sweet as soon as your funny dimple shows up on your left cheek everytime you smile, the tender way your hands touch me and how you always stare at me; God, I felt so loved and secure when you did that... the way you hug me... This isn't good, thinking about all that... I’m growing weary of looking at your photographs and paintings and listening to the music we enjoyed so much together; it hurts me, it keeps me thinking about you. All the good things, everything that was great between you and me is killing me… killing me very slowly, like a stake to the heart gently driven into my chest.

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Since you ran away nobody knows where you are so the most probable thing is that you’ll never read this… Where are you? You only left a good-bye note. I’ve looked everywhere, I’ve asked everyone; but you’re nowhere to be found and no one knows of your whereabouts. It’s like you had entirely disappeared from the land of the living. Was it so bad with me? Were our differences so contradictory? Weren’t you happy with me after I did everything to please you? Or is that you found another girl, someone better, prettier? If that’s so why didn’t you tell me? It'd hurt less; it'd be a lot easier to get over you if you would've had the decency to tell me what the hell happened!

*I sigh exhausted*

I think maybe I’ll disappear too. Everything reminds me of you. Your presence's everywhere in my room; it’s in the pillows and in the closet; it’s in my clothes and in my underwear… Damn it, I fear it’s even inside of me!

I need to get away from here. I need to breathe another air that isn’t yours… It’s a shame I didn’t write this letter earlier, before leaving home; I’d have left it on the bed where you made love to me so many times. In that way if someone ever came looking for me he’d know I went away looking for some mysterious neon lights”.

It's getting darker, I'd better be going.