White Night Fantasy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A nameless girl is sitting watching out of the window as the snow falls, and she is waiting. Will she always be waiting for something?

Submitted: July 26, 2017

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Submitted: July 26, 2017

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A girl looking out of a glass window, where the lost wind does not blow. She sees that the lonely ocean even more unpopular than she is. The grey sky brainwashed, forgetting the colour that he is meant to be. Her eyes just see emptiness, like every journal wrote in her diary. Sitting in a wood chair, prisoner waiting for the death penalty. Slowly she counts down the passing clouds of each day until no more left. The ocean goes for miles, only The Joker tells stories about smiles. 

Her thoughts are silent, the threatening weather outside is not violent. If she were in a dream, Freddy would kill the weather outside instead. Her eyes have no colour, the prostitute sun becoming the raped moon. There is no emotion on her face, surgery would be emotionless. Planting her thoughts in the glass room, the flower growing in the glasshouse. Opening her eyes again and colourless scenery is the same blue. Using a knife so words on skin becomes friends, blood the language of death. Silent in her own words, using her own skin for a game of hangman. Her dripping blood giving reason, colour of snow in winter's season. 
 
A puppet flowing of human blood, suicide in the place it should. The waves of the ocean yawning as lifeless as a dead letter. Sprinkling emotions to invisible roses growing on a wooden floor. Her eyes are the Devil's eyes, Dr. Loomis describing Michael Myers. Her face is a blank mask, underneath it the identity of a ghost. The blankness of expression without strings, she murdered the puppeteer. Letting her blood be the crying of a human face that wept alone. Seeing no friend knock on her door tonight, the blood of her skin will write.

When the next day awoke, she sits down on the cold chair that never spoke. Looking out of the dull window once more, the blackness of night still there. White diamond snow has fallen to cover the ocean making it blunt. Spreading snow on stars, her main course meal would close down the restaurant. The thoughts in her head rapping so that she cannot understand the words. Eminem is a Rap God, the cool Kim Nam Joon is a Rap Monster. Her heart inside is the moon to blood that never produced a rainbow. Labyrinthine in her own mind, palimpsest which she will never find. 

The air outside now cold, the image of the sky is painted old. Her own face darkened, world outside is the apocalypse of her soul. Friends becoming fiends when the light of day becomes the darkness of night. A new day the window showing no reflection of a vampire. Soulless part of life hidden, when Buffy kissed Angel for the first time. Picking up the knife from the floor she stares at the sharpness of the blade. Volcanic skin erupting when the knife becomes an earthquake on skin. Rain falling in her own home without pain, the life she built now insane.

Weather forecast in her eyes, no mention of earth ever having skies. There is no light anywhere to be seen in this unexpected abyss. A mirror hanging can offer a person's reflection with no soul. Her blood a beautiful rain falling, stealing the red from the rainbow. The ocean with tears raining suicide from the heavens of her skin. Her body turning into a zombie of depression from the bite. A young Clementine forced to shoot Lee in the emotional finale. Her blood draining water from the flower, death she will face this hour.

The distance there is the painting the artist drew, no signs of skies blue. She keeps looking out of the window to see if anybody is out there. To find her in some way, but our glass eyesight breaks to make us all blind. Sitting on the seat the ingredients of the cauldron for a dark spell. Her blinking eyes slower than a heartbeat, no pulse found in her body. Her human body feeling like transportation into a wood doll. Chucky possessing Jennifer Tilly again to find a new bride. The pale horizon a fractured sunset, breaking the neck of regret.

Her blood draining like cherries being killed, a daylight nightmare fulfilled. Her body is built from a jigsaw, where she always sits incomplete. Suddenly something makes her jump out of the seat for first time in days. Getting closer to the window she sees a movement of white approach. The ocean is now a snow covered crystal path, the bridge to no where. She can see her frozen breath becoming fear on the glass window cold. A snowman is close, not Howard Blake performing Walking in the Air. The snow a beautiful city, walking in the cold painful gritty. 

She sees him walking on the white snow close, like drugs on a lethal dose. The movement nearly reaches her closed door, slowly she will unlock it. Only a snowman walking along the wintry shore without a scarf. His own falling flesh like cancer, hospital treatment a melting death. Sempiternal for he is the walking winter, three months left to live. Languor as his own flesh slows him down, snow and quicksand to become stone. The last time he will see the girl remembered in her lust beauty. The falling winter that came, Edward Scissorhands fell in love with Kim. Walking in his own skin, the slowness will mean that the end will begin.  

The girl standing at the opened front door, willing him on even more. The day now has cracks in the sky to show the opening stage of daylight. The world can return to normal again with the singing of gold birds. Wishing she could speak to him on the phone to give the correct answer. Ghostface on the phone to Sydney, her boyfriend was always the answer. Finding a cue card and chalk, she will write words before the snow will stalk.

NAMELESS GIRL WITH CUE CARD

Please hurry up and come inside before the light and the rising rays....Thou can find shelter from the deathly arms of the sun that will kill you....Aroint thee from the fucking evil sky that will melt thy where you stand....

Her words not giving him another life, melting from wounds of the knife. He can only slowly move for the sun is breaking up in the sky. His white snow body is briefly melting down the side of his cold face. Built in the garden he lasts all winter, as human he is mortal. The girl waving her hands rapidly so that he can make it inside. Humans not doing anything to see what we have done to the world. Michael Jackson explaining the pain of Mother Earth in Earth Song. Thinking she should go outside, to help the snowman find a place to hide.

Taking too long to think and freeze, the snowman caught in his own disease. The snowman struggling in his own kryptonite as his movement is slow. Lex Luthor with a green way to kill Superman from his own planet. The girl rushes out of the house trying to help but the snowman rejects. Blood from the girl falling like bloody red snow flakes from her wounded skies. Making the snowman look sad as he reflects, the mirror is damaged. Her taint blood in his snow a science experiment to kill winter. The sun arose and he humanly cries, everything beautiful dies.

The girl cannot cry or speak, the plight of all living things is now bleak. The snowman has tears coming from his eyes, the blood in his body cold. The saint snow putting him on trial, the sun will burn him at the stake. Joan of Arc kept her faith in God, he saved her soul from the burning stake. His tears the same ones that make us all human when it's our turn to die. He cannot wipe away his own tears, countdown of snow his white deathbed. Looking at the girl with human emotion, his death winter's ocean.

SNOWMAN WITH CUE CARD

Betoken is it meant to be you that has tears in your eyes for me? Ensteeped humanity, I'm not meant to be the one crying am I?

She cannot answer with spoken words, her voice flown away with pale birds. The snowman has more tears from his white face than the human face can spend. His tears erasing his face, his cemetery nameless in winter. A tall building corrupted by the snow of his own parliament. The snowman needs to change his country, Guy Fawkes with the gunpowder plot. He is asking the most beautiful snow out, date less at his own prom. The sickly yellow sun at its highest peak, snowman death penalty. Rays of yellow light melt the snowman into the final tears of earth. His body now the black wreckage of tears, crash landing of his own fears.

Fifty Years Later

An empty presence is looking out of window, the presence of the girl does not show. The snow comes, and the girl who is now elderly is frozen cold in ice. Her memory and her life is frozen in the song of cold winter. The song choice at her funeral Let It Go by Idina Menzel. The burning sickly yellow sun never came, who is the one to blame?

White Night Fantasy © 2017 by Dexter Angelus Draven. All rights reserved.

 


© Copyright 2017 LeParadisNoirPoetique. All rights reserved.

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