Brain Remains

Surreal thoughts

My body is rotting

My brain is being devoured by worms 

My blood is substituted for devilish wine

It feels good 

It’s marvellous to be in a state of madness 

The reality is for losers 

My misery is the land of extatic pleasure 

I don’t want go back . 



A Crimson Razor Blade

Surreal thoughts


In my dream, I was attached to a crimson razor blade, I had used it to commit suicide in order to get into purgatory to hang out with my relatives and friends. Each time,  I had miraculously resurrected  my remains from the dead by running away from the light in the tunnel. I had  also worked with my dear sharp friend to relieve the anger and fear. I must admit, it was very easy to use, a little malicious bastard knew how to kill the pain instantly through breaking the surface of skin tissue, going straight to the core of a problem.

What happened to the blood, it must have spurted all over the place?  ‘No’, the manipulative moron replied- ‘Your blood was drained off to avoid any unnecessary mess in my decaying shed. You have become an obedient creature who is going to live under my conditions….’

I don’t know, I start to panic,

What to do?

What to do? Mum, help me?

I wake up drenched in sweat. Am I afraid of mental pain which never goes away, solitude, or eternal unhappiness?

I pledge to flout convention, reject tradition, and dwell in my own world.

The Heart 

Surreal thoughts

My heart aches when I hear a familiar tune. I feel like something is missing- perhaps a piece of my soul has been taken away, kidnapped and misplaced. Is that it? Does life taste bitter? Where is the sweetness from haunting dreams?

I look through the window the scent from the land of living hits my nostrils, my brain awakens, I want to come out from my burrow to taste, smell, experience and to kill the routine. I’ve decided to mingle with other creatures using a guideline called- The Etiquette. I want everything to be perfect so I read it thoroughly making notes and in the meantime interviewing accomplished familiar faces. Feeling prepared, I go to the city to try my luck. I walk pass multiple places of worship and people in front of them stabbing each other, slitting wrists and slashing throats. The thick and warm crimson coloured blood from severed veins and arteries is spurting all over the floor. Severely and lethally wounded they are still smiling at eachother happily chatting away. I can feel shivers running down my spine and a stomach climbing its way up towards my throat, it’s sickening… People wave at me, they open their arms in an attempt to greet me. They are moving closer and closer leaving a trail of treacly blood behind them, I’m terrified, I splutter something and run as fast as I can back to my burrow. I yelp for some time then I compose myself realising that I’m satisfied with my aching heart as at least it’s not an artificial piece of sponge. I believe there are other people like me.