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..
.
Shhhhhh...
Eyes... Open your eyes. Talk. Pap-py. Crawl. Walk. Mo-mother. Close your eyes. Peak-a-boo! What you want? Open your eyes. Smile. Blink. Open your eyes. Blink. What you want? Let's sit on the table. Put your hand in your mouth. What do you want? Feel the taste. Good boy. Close your eyes. Blink. Take a leak between your legs. Feels good. Great, by the way. Good girl. Put your dress on. Wear green. Trim your nails. Understood. What do you want? Take off your dress. Petty girl. Smile. Blink. Give me your warmth with a embrace... Mother... Pappy... Mother... Father... Parents. Smile. Close your eyes. What do I want? Sleep well...
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...MY IRON TAIL.
.
..
...
By: Wire
From: Chairs Missing (1978)
Blink.
Peace talks... Let's talk about Peace... Peace Peace...Let's Talk about Peace... Peace talks, talks Peace... Let's talk about Peace... Peace Peace Peace... Peace talks... Peace talks... Let's talk about Peace... Peace Peace...Let's Talk about Peace... Peace talks, talks Peace... Let's talk about Peace... Peace Peace Peace... Peace talks... Peace talks... Let's talk about Peace... Peace Peace...Let's Talk about Peace... Peace talks, talks Peace... Let's talk about Peace... Peace Peace Peace... Peace talks... Peace talks... Let's talk about Peace... Peace Peace...Let's Talk about Peace... Peace talks, talks Peace... Let's talk about Peace... Peace Peace Peace... Peace talks... I am atop the castle of a kingdom by the name of Alexandria, if I recall such. From the window, I see the white star, they call it by sun, briefly before a cloud of rain, like others envolving of the same sky, covers it's entirety, to form a bright grey, unlike the darker grey areas of the same sky. I recall I had seem such star before. I always saw the same star, each day, because when it comes the night, it dissapears into the dusk, the black of a sky illuminated by other stars, unlike me, a negative for all lights. Negative of any colors, a negative of any positive, a north of a magnet who shall never be placed with same pole of another magnet.
..Que veux-tu?... Today, we will talk about Peace... For too long, the citizens of this Kingdom, this Continent, this World have lived in the midst of death and fear. Fearing more than enough death, the hatred of a few holds the hopes of many hostage. The forces of evil attempted to kill peace by killing the innocent ones, of my country, and their country as well. For the sake of all humanity, things must change in this world... It is untenable for Alexandrian citizens to live in fear. It is equally untenable for burmecians deemed as denizens to live in occupation. It is untenable for the current situation offers no prospect that life will improve; it is untenable for the humans to keep defending of their nature, defending of the expurge of many for their own sake... This ain't the place I used to live, neither is the place had been said I was born, yet the skies of this land resemble the same sky of the land said to be my home. Burmecia is the name given to such eternal wet lands. Burmecians is the plural of those who live there. Othe word found to call us besides this one is rat. I am a rat, and also a human; both beings, sharing of both attributes given to these two unrelated species. And... what am I doing there, on these stranger lands? So far away from a place to call by home? Yes... now I recall why. Now that I see who I became into a sip of a warm tea...
Yes... I was born. Born again. Slurp... Blink.
...Geez... How often do I keep on reading this book like this? Sweat can tell. The heat can tell. The cold too, as well, rightfully says so. When the breeze comes out of the window, it takes out the heat flowing into my skin, together with the sweat of my face, and only. My back is still sweating, but that's why baths are meant to be taken. I need a bath, remember that. He too. Not that he's smelling bad, but a bath should be able to clean more than a mess sweat is. The mess that keeps gathering into the head, alike the heat of a blanket in the summer, each page matters, a heat of a head full of thoughts, I need a bath, I'm sweating like a rat, pigs do not sweat, I woke up earlier, heat comes up, opens the window, feels the breeze of Zephyr, I'm waiting for this to stop...
Stop. Blink. From the ashes I came alive, once again. Before I came to realize such, they said I was dead. Everyone, mostly everyone agreed in such words spread into the air, where I stood, or so they said. For some reason, I can't remember how I died, but maybe didn't I. By the cuts of a knife away from the sheat, all scattered across some regions of mine; a collision with a blunt object, threw at or released by a hold of fist at my head... Was it me who did such? An attempt of something called suicide, or in other words, a way to give up from life. Why would I? Why would I care to forget? Why am I... Forgetful. So... forgetful... Que veux-tu?... My vision of this brand new world, the vision that we, my Kingdom as an entirety, condemn, are two states, living side by side in peace and security, hunger and surplus unfortunately for the other as result, if there won't be any cooperation, which I disagree with, but since the coin has its two sides, there is simply no way to achieve that Peace... yet, at this critical moment, if all parties will break with the past and set out on a new path, we can overcome the darkness with the light of hope. A new and different leadership is required, so that an equally-rightfull state can be reborn for those who already had lost their own, by humans who naturally insist to to protect their called-by rightfull territory...
...De quoi as-tu peur?... Blink. Rain keeps falling, as much as I do. Of the world and mine, things went away from me, as this mind of mine, and the things that were once part of a mind. Such things are called by memories, who once belonged to me, or so does they say, a lot. Rain keeps pouring down on the roof above me. Above me... Commands. I still remember such. Walk. Don't walk. Talk. Don't talk. Be quiet. Eat your food. Time to sleep. Speak your name. Name? What's your name? My name. Name... 'Sir Faultley', 'Sir Frailey', 'Sir Folktaley', 'Sir Forgetfuley', 'Sir Empty Head', 'Sir Absent Minded', 'Sir Amnesiac'; these words... soon as this dreadful condition of mine showed up, they were uttered. Alike how the rain keeps pouring down, or used to pour onto us, before we came up to this room, before we came up to this same castle with many rooms, before I came up to become this, a man without a view, or a room to such view to be placed within.
...Coca... Words can't describe how I do feel. However, words can described how others do feel about me. Constantly uttered to me, as some kind of offensive attack they found to use against me, against my name, directly as a gaze, hid or not, from the public to a single one person, adult or child, recklessly willing to find a way, such easy one it become, to hurt my self, to inflict a damage over the name of mine by saying such words as if they were my name. Why? Why they do this? And why can't I do anything, except wait for her to do it so I wished I could? But, somehow, after all, all I had done... after all *they had done, and after all she had done... I still stand, and I don't know how. I... don't... remember. Blink. Grow. Grow higher. Climbing up a tree. Growing higher. Brush your hair, darling. Put your dress on. Wear red. Close your eyes. Flowers withering. Autumn leaves. Father... Mother... Parents. Relatives. Put your dress on. Wear black. Graves dug. Smile? Smile. Tears of rain. Grow. Wear a nightdress. Sleep well. Feels great... Put your coat on. Wear red. Grown enough to be a lady. Grown enough to be a Dragon. Feels great? Greater than ever was. Feel high. Concerned, but alright. Scandal. No more dresses to be wore. Only wear red. Dragon helm. Dragon coat. Woman's eyes. His eyes. Blink.
...But breeze alone can't take out those trembling legs of mine, so the chairs were built in. I could sit in the floor if I wanted, but this book and those pages... so many pages. So heavy the book is, I can't read it while on foot, without a table to where it should be placed upon. Or maybe I could place it in the floor as well, but tables and chairs seems to be more, let's say, polite. Not that the floor of this castle is dirty, but that's what they do follow, what they are supposed to do when reading of a book, or eating. Eating words... I can't eat them, as much as I can't jump a page with a whole of them. There's also images, that are words as well, drawn into a page with same pen and ink... Coca... Blink... The moss, dependant of water for reproductive purposes, may not be a cherry tree, who carries on its twigs of their leaves, flowers, fruits and seeds, but that doesn't mean a moss is special, or less so, because it lacks the same a cherry tree doesn't, the yoshino as it is called as well, while moss is moss, and remains so, or not, seeing how ferns also appear to belong to this world too...
...Pen and ink... Pen and ink... books... I do belong to a land where such things aren't that much of interest for the general populance. A land that now needs them mostly, as much as I do need of this book, and him. A Sir of the house Irontail, if I recall, and how do I recall, unlike his, who used to. His hands could ask for the water to turn into wine before I could do it so. Now he drinks cider, clear as the water of the rain we used to drank as children, walking below it. For eternity rain keeps falling on Burmecia, unlike the children who grew up, thought people pour down upon others, with same intensity as the rain. He noticed me because of this coat, didn't he? He remembers me somehow, in a way. I know he does. Not only because of what I wore, or used to on each day, or what I didn't wore when we were left on our own. If I could, at least, look at the face underneath that hat, right now, once again, yet this book doesn't allow me to do it. Not only because of the book, but the person who's reading it as well. Me, of course...
Blink. Remember... If there's something I, may, remember, is the look of some at me. I remember, because... these, those looks, still they persist. They persist as the faces of something called 'shock'; a shock taken in after they saw me, this way, and not that way, the way of before. To recognize such as me, that one, now found this low, this below the chair I once sitted above. How come a view become so, so, so... twisted. Twisted view. The view of mine... the view they saw of mine... my weaknesses, they know my weaknesses, all of them, in a single one view, all of them... in a single point of view. If there's a view of me for they to see, because one already shaterred long ago. Five years ago, or so they said, or she said.
...What do you want?... Help for the helpless; love for the loveless. The Kingdom of Alexandria, along with our partners , will increase the assistance needed to relieve of this suffering brought by, unfortunately, many of ourselves, if we can still be called by 'humans' anymore, unlike they, who do not even deserve of same 'humanity', but Peace that can be found on this sort of string, this organic string, like a navel string, who still remains, somehow, even within this society, and the meaning of a social contract, both who are constantly being tore, crumbling apart, but this is normally expected of a group, no more in isolation, thanks to those submerged cables, outdated, yet useful, unlike the discrimination who belongs to many, declared to be humans, who incits of many inhuman acts... Any comparasion meant to be drawn, this century with the one who came before... we are tired. Before, humans lowered others; now, they are lowering equality, trust, efficiency, in favour of increasing unequality, deception, lies, and the worst, regression instead of progression. Progression... progression... progress... prog...
Blink... Coca. To think I've became this mockery, a laughing stock for those who once saw me as said knight of a land where the rain pours down and never stops to do such, as me who can't find who am I, that knight... was I? They say I was. Some still se me as such knight. A few of then, who came near me, instead of me, who had done such many times, a turn to move to the north of the needle, the front direction of always, while they moved away, only a few remaining to put a blame over me, and this thing that now defines me. A mockery, an excuse of living to his name. Slurp... Althought the brain of a bird is smaller than a nut, they are, if not the most, intelligent beings, more than humans, and humans who turned into birds, crowns who insist to eat the flesh belonging by the dead ones... rat babies learn to walk a few days before the birth, unlike many human babies, whose heads weight more than their own body, a result of the advent in machinery with the years, the centuries, and so it goes on. But we, humans, flesh, we are finite...
...That's the basic structure of a narrative, and the basic structure of many stories. Stories keeps progressing throught the acts, or so you insist to believe into it. But, truth to be fair, numbers tell that more sharks are killed by humans than humans are killed by sharks. Why, you ask, if their fins are tasteless, at the point they need to be served with pork meat? Same can be said about whales, and their teeth, who are taken from that mouth to become brooms. They sell those things at Treno, even rat tails, ribbon included as well... Coca. Blink. Old wounds open. Feeling growing pains. Life over the edge. Cold comfort brought. Mean seasons arrive. Scratching my back. Never fear. Blink. Concerned, but powerless. Unfathomed reminiscense. Blink enough. Yawn. There's enough space in this world, this everything we live. But with space, comes the place. There's no place for me in there, their place, the place that seem to have came before me, even before they. To find a place to belong... below the clouds, many of me had found such, but what did that changed? The hereafter remained the same, as the color of those who felt in the ground I step, they stepped, they feeded with blood. Wherever you go, people remain the same, so does the blood, who share of the same red, wherever you go, whatever you do or don't to see it.
I don't wanna... I don't wanna... Drink... Cloaca... I don't. Don't wanna. Don't. Wanna. Slurp... Comfortable. Sleeping well, thought unquiet. Sitting still, yet frantic. Not drinking too much. Not... drinking... my mouth is dry. I still kiss with saliva. She kissed me this morning, when I awoke. Comfortable. Those lips spoke of a lullaby before I slept. I slept well this night, so how do you? I feel great. That is such a list of friends you got in there, in your heart. Here. Have another tea... SLURP! Cold, isn't it? What will be for lunch, darling? Scrambled eggs? Lemonade? I woke up sucking a lemon. But I feel great. Life is so nice, and you... you are my sweet paradise. Your hair reminds me of... of... her. She woke up sucking a lemon. Don't know how she felt. Life is hard, and so do she try. Too much for me... too much for her. I am... not her. But she... is me. She knows me. She kisses me. She smile at me. I smile... at her... Comfortably... numb. Sluuurp... Huff.
...Cloaca... This me... I ain't the same. I can't remember who I am, because I can't remember who I was, the one whom I had been told to had been before. The knight... that knight. I was been told to be his, I had been told until this moment. Before my lips touched of this cup, they tell me I am that knight, and some don't even need to spell a word. Just the look of those faces is enough for me to think about it. I need to think... I need to remember... but why? Why that knight... what he did... why is it so important? Who am I?... Do they know who am I?... Why I can't know who am I?... Huff... This castle I stand... the chair I sit... this cup of tea I drink in small intervals... each one tastes the same... this tongue says so... this library where she's reading a book at the same time she's watching over me... I've been in this castle before, or so she said. Only she said such. Nobody else told me besides her, and that look... the same look... carefully reading the book with that look... the green look of the eyes... my eyes... the surface of the tea... how cold is the cup I touch... my lips... her lips... silence. *Slurp. Huff... Silence. Silence. Rain.
Rain... Come down, rain. Let it fall... the rain. Rain keeps falling, let the rain come down. Come down... the rain... the puke... the cry... the silence. The rain. The tea... Slurp. Cloaca... clock... She... she stands there. Huff... So quiet she is. Unlike the rain. Reading each page... page after page... page after page... and so goes on. All pages. She doesn't pull into another chapter by accident... she only does before reading everything on the page, and so... so it goes on. There's another cup of tea besides this one in my hands. Slurp. People usually drink tea as a pair, so they left this tea in there... I don't think she want it... or... like it. No, she does... she just... doesn't want to... waste time... time into such thing. Futile thing. Huff... What does I need... she need... a cure. She believes... in me... a cure. There is a cure... for this condition... this fiend they see on me. Over me. Over my face. Over these clothes. Below the hat, and once again... over my face. Look at her face... Huff. Her face... This face...
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Am I... 'ill'?... 'Sick'?... 'Deranged'?... *Slu-urp. How come I could hear you, if your head is underwater?...Peace will be awaiting for us... ...Peace will be awaiting for us... ...Peace will be awaiting for us... Awaiting... Awaiting... Awaiting for us... ...Peace will be awaiting for us... ...Peace will be awaiting for us... ...Peace will be awaiting for us... Awaiting... Awaiting... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Awaiting for us... Maybe I've forgotten the name and adress of everyone that knight know. Nothing that I regret, but they do, like she. What was her name? Fr... Fr... No, I can't... believe. Huh... Did I? No. Can't believe in you. She doesn't believe in you. You... you used to be a stranger, now you are mine... You are what they see when they saw me... You are what... those people... believe am I... But she says otherwise. Can't believe in you, she doesn't believe... in what she sees from me. She sees that spear... see the javelin... the pike... the tip... the face... and think I am a knight. Regression. No. No... to think... think is wrong. Wrong. She... she agrees... agrees that I am... I am... I am such knight... like her. She is... a knight. Huff... I... I... Slu-u-u-u... SLURP!
...drink... Drink... DRINK. 'I', or... 'was I'? I... Fr... Fr... Fr? W... W-What's my name? W-Who am I? Sniff. I-I... I... Who? Who!? Did I... just? Forget? No. I can't... forget... Forget? Wait... I... forget... F-O-R-G-E-T... L-E-Y... FORGETFULEY... FORGETFUL EY... F/org/E/tfu/L EY... FEL... FELEY... FET... FETLEY... FR... F-R-A-T... F-R-A-T-L-E-Y...FRATLEY! Yes! My name is Fratley! That's it! Fratley. Now... just a bit... her name? What's her name? Her name... the lady's name... I know. That knight knew. I can't ask his now. This time... I'll do it. My name... her name... FR... FR... FRATLEY... FRAEYT... FREAT... FR/atl/EY... FRE... FRE... FREY... What? What? What!? Letter. One letter... remaining one letter. Lady? LADY? FRY... LADY FRY... FRY... FRE... FREE... LADY FREE... FREJA... FREYJA..Freya? Lady Freya... Is that it? Oh, thank godness! Huff... huff... pant... pant. Freya... How could I keep forgetting such name? How could I forget it once more? Is this a way... to treat a lady... such as Freya? HOW COULD I!...
...CRACK! ARGH!... Ouch! My head... Huff, huff, huff... Huff. Pant. Pant. Huh...Did anyone else noticed? Huh... Because... The cup of tea... felt from my hand. Yes. It felt, felt from my hand. Near me, it felt. I was the one who let it fall. I let them fall... the people fall... rain.. fall. That knight... let them... fall. My head... such pain I'm feeling. Feeling... pain. That cup of tea didn't felt any pain, or screamed. It was I who felt it's pain. It was me who felt the pain of his. I am the one... who feels pain. I couldn't scream, althought I wanted to do it so, but I couldn't, because I felt too much. Too much so I couldn't do anything, except be quiet. No yell could be heard in the library, thought there's only two of us there. The silence of before was disturbed by the cup felt, and only. A slip of mine was enough for it to fall. For her to come near, from the nearest bottom to the top I stand, on this chair, away from her, now near from her. I can't do nothing, except still. To sit still on this chair, and admit... or no. But she can see throught me. She know I'll be lying. She knows... the truth.
All the truth.
They have an eye on me, specially she. Yes, that lady. Freya... Freya Something. At least, I know her name is Freya. Good, very good. She's good; very good. Freya... I'd rather learn to walk once again than forget your name. Oh, Freya... she is always stuck with me, and so do I. Freya kept a kind of vigilance over me. A kind of this type that I don't seem in anyone else. It's more of an unique kind of observation, as if I am willing to be observed by such eyes. It's not the same kind she does when dealing with one of those tough guys, like with that blue guy, that weird one who seems to be, at the same time, her friend and also a foe. Both. For Freya, I'm not a foe, nor am I a friend. I don't know who am I to her, but it seems as important as what she had been doing with those eyes of her, and what I had been doing with her.
On pairs we walk together, with our both hands holding each other; we go wandering to the same places we are familiar with, like this castle and its corridors, part of this town and other places as well, like the day we once went to Treno; we even share of a same bed, where we sleep, and nothing else. For so, I thought. On each night, she still watches over me, not so distant of myself, yet the closure keep us so far, like now, and unlike same now. As if she were watching herself on my sleep, she also watches over me when I'm awake. Or am I sleeping? I wish I could, so I could do anything, instead of sitting still watching over her reaching the upstairs as quick as the blink of mine. The blink of anyone, to say so. Freya Something didn't even stood a single step of her feet, whose claws are sharper as the ones belonging to her hand, who touched the banister, not to walk there, but instead fly. No, I'm not kidding. She went flying upstairs, or better, she jumped over each of the steps of the stairs, for real.
I don't know why am I surprised by such matter, since I saw it once... I guess? Don't know, but that I've seem such thing, yes I saw. It's something she can do, and how often does she do it. She noticed it, the reaction, as soon as I could find a way to frame something than someone else. The wind? How could it happen, if the windows are closed? Then, was the carpet? How, if I stood in the chair all along? How could I fall if I was sitting? There's no excuse. It was me, Fratley, who broke this cup. No excuse. Just me and only. I need to pay for such, I know. I just had to follow her, and she followed me. That's why she brought me to the library. That's why I stood in there to drink such tea; Freya didn't had time to drink the tea. Instead, she went downstairs to read that book, again. Yet again, she reads it once again. But... those actions do not justify why the cup broke, at first place. The timeline doesn't matter, and still I'll have to pay, and I don't know how. It's cold, like this room, unlike this warm body, like the greenish water that stood above the table, like the cup where it stands, or used to stand. On this table, on the floor, this tea and I...
Everything is broken.
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