“Oh, my dear, but it’s just your inner mess you are looking at.”
Snobbish, all-knowing voice purring in my ear.
Inner mess, is that what they call it these days?
Diminishing the actual state of affairs, giving it that bitter-sweet taste of deceit.
Sunny and bright full of life, furniture shining all new with delight.
No stains on the woollen rug, chandeliers without dust, all felt like a dream once upon a time.
After the dreams came crashing down, every centimetre of that shining pearl turned black with the masked delight of prolonging the agony of my tormented mind while I wither inside.
Shadows crawling on the ochre walls, tickling the skin of the all-knowing voice. Dust settling in more than one layer on the keyboard that no one is playing.
Shelves full of books, offering an escape from this place that is a total mess.
Misplaced things waiting to know their faith, breadcrumbs gathering around the box for bread.
Limescale around the tap is gaining entity, unwashed dishes creating a diversity of thought, feeling, and make-believe. Screaming to be taken away from here, from this pile of dirt and despair, to be taken anywhere.
All are coloured with words and emotions, killing the will to take any action. In the chaos around me, I feel the abyss inside me. Feeling the walls coming down, all windows closed I’m running out of air.
Dwelling in the poison of a black dusty room, gathering the strength to send it all to hell. Feeling of helplessness numbs all initiative but the instinct for survival is stronger than anything.
Slowly but surely, I will get there, sort the mess I have been dwelling in, not the outer but the inner I mean, for the mess in the room I will leave to him to clean.
Let the all-knowing voice scream into his ear the last ship has gone from these shores, in the end revenge is sweet although served cold.