Warm Scandinavian Isolation


Doomed isolated dwelling in the Northern frostbitten woods,
Grim thick funeral mist slowly floating upon the ancient graveyard of souls.
Watching ourselves sitting on the dusty couch from above,
Welcoming isolation, the bloody dusk through the gray window.
No human presence around, no vital energy to feed on,
Besides two souls sitting on the dusty gray couch.

Crawling desire of warm dripping blood
As the supreme revelation has been unveiled,
Two pairs of ice-cold desperate eyes meeting
Fulfilled becoming the imminent chaotic fate.

Unleashed boiling anger spreading,
So subtle for the helpless ignorant humanity,
Enormous mystical waves of hatred and desolation,
All has been released now.

“Self-loathing is painfully drowning my veins”, he said,
As I fixed the flaming eagerness slowly crawling through his enchanting deep soul.
“I despite as intensely and purely as you do”, my hollow voice resounded between the wooden walls of the forgotten tomb-like chamber.

Burning fragile wrists longing for the smooth touch of the cold silver razor,
So that the forgetting may begin.
Tracing a fine but deep line along,
The warm comforting embrace of yours enlightens my entire emptiness,
Resurrecting life-long buried sensations from the depths of nihilistic existence.

I am contemplating the sunset-shaded pure magic liquid,
That mystic vital raw energy, yet so common for the earthlings,
The bitter metallic taste fills the hollowness of my cursed soul,
Such a pitiful scene admired by the silent walls.



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