The wine made of fermented grapes with a note of decadence tastes good with a bittersweet chunk of ice cold sorrow. I’m sipping the elixir of sadness while sitting at the oblong charcoal table waiting for the purple skulls to arrive. Purple skulls have one decaying body and 6 heads multiplying by 666. Each of them represents a painful experience and chaos, there is one head among them sticking out bravely, it’s made of a crimson crystal clear material which was dug from the deepest reachable point of the earth therefore it is indestructible. The skull in the middle holds all the positivity and decent memories which has taken place while stomping on the ground. An optimist would say- the unstained beauty of life. I stand up impatiently waiting for my friend to arrive, bored, I reach for a knife and tear into pieces holy books I have been collecting over the years in my strenuous attempt to find a golden key to happiness. They belong to multiple flocks. I tear them apart, shredding them into thin rumpled pieces, I do in a rush to save myself more time to enjoy the last moments of self- pity before the arrival of my dear friend. I hear repetitive knocking at the massive metal door of my ivory suffocated grey concrete shed in the middle of the forest which never has been found or discovered. There are trees, bushes and overgrown weed in the meadow, my so called temple is in the middle of the swamp, so it’s well protected and separated from the rest of the area. I rush to open the door, the force radiating from the skulls hits me, I can’t comprehend it as its of unknown source but I fully embrace it. I leave my concrete shelter and occasionally appear among other human beings with my wisdom made of pieces of life experiences.
One thought on “My Concrete Shelter ”
Ahhhh…be ever wary of the sinuous, sly promise of the fermented grape…!
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