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We’re coming across the ocean, by the noises of eagles. There is a couple in the jungle. They are curious as they are afraid a little bit. Jungle must be infinite. There are no foot-steps to follow. Only thing could be done is just walking around non-stop. We are not interested in who they are. We would have never asked, where are they coming from? Past is never important. People would not know about the past, instead of the future. Past is mysterious but future is outrageous. You can organize everything in your head but there may always be disorder.

                The girl is shaking by the night. Her man holds her in his arms. There is no sound but the noises of animals. Being alone with the nature turns them all. They have no ones to care for, they have no ones to be cared by. They have only each other to care for. He can look into her eyes and he can only care for her life in the jungle and he will have known that it was only her who cared for him. 

                She dies in his arms for no reason.

                “Away from the house, together in the home.”

Vortex

                Day time or night time? It’s indefinite. But the definite thing is, there is a round-table. It’s a common day. Nothing is special. Nothing is special every day. Light beams come from the window and lighten the men vaguely, who are sitting around the table. They are wearing black suits. There is life around here but not on this table, not in these men’s hearts. Top of the table is not able to be seen.

                First guy starts talking, feeling deep purple: “It’s my nightmare, man. I’m not able to do anything that I want in this fucking world. I wish it was just possible to do. Imagine a world you’re completely free. It mustn’t be drugs or alcohol. I want to feel it. You kill someone but you’re not a murderer, you know. I don’t want to stick in one position. I don’t want to be responsible from my acts. I don’t want to be punished for this, either. Could it be even possible? It’s weird, you know. Freedom doesn’t remind you something about ‘freedom’. We are just volunteer slaves and it’s sort of a freedom, right?” Waitress passes by the guy with her mini-skirt. She has long legs and she’s wearing black stockings. He just stares at the girl and she has a white rabbit tattoo on her right arm. The guy starts chasing the girl to the east.

                Second guy starts talking in a hopeless way: “When I was a little kid, there was a ‘pink castle’ in my neighborhood. I used to play soccer with friends around it. But now, when I look at my neighborhood, I only see a dirty pink house.” He hides something behind his words. He is emotionless, maybe. He wants to feel again as he used to. Suffering, relaxing, first and foremost: living… Outside of the place, a car appears, which looks more like a machine. It may carry him into his childhood. He just walks to the car and disappears.

                Third guy bends his head forward and starts talking shilly-shally: “Well… I’ve been told that I’m an awful person, a sinner. God would punish me. God would punish everyone. I just want to see it.” He takes out his knife and stabs himself cowardly with a huge spot of light. He disappears…

                Before fourth guy starts talking, it’s obvious to see his humbled face. He starts talking softly: “I thought I was the one. Like the only one snow flake in the world, you know. I was the best. I must have been. It was my only choice. I should have been loved by everyone. I could have done anything in this world, you know. I thought I did. I was careless. No one cared for me back.” No one but no one around the table, cares for his words. He goes on his life with his upset face.

                Fifth, “I am a girl…” … “This is my fault.” She walks away, feeling ashamed. And words start dropping with her tears:

                 “I am wearing the beams of light
                  Wrap it around me
                  Feeling strong against the world
                  Dip my finger in the cold water
                  Of the hidden river in a forest
                  Giving life to nature
                  The stream drain away
                  Making curls
                  Heading for an endless move…”

                 She is so beautiful to be dead.

       
                Sixth guy… is alone… looks around. “And I…” nobody is there but the fourth guy. He’s not able to see him. He walks to the west. The place starts getting darker as we get closer to the top of the table. There is a big vortex on the surface of the table. The Vortex is calling for us. We are not able to do anything in the presence of the vortex. The only thing could be done is just letting yourself for your destiny. We always get lost. We are the lost children of God. We did get lost in the Vortex again. Black.

                                                                              THE END

The Pink Shapes

I started seeing little pink shapes on my sight. I wish I could just fall asleep. The Persian is right next to me… laying in the shadow of the black’s death. The Crows must stop making annoying sounds. Why can’t we just stop falling in love with someone we don’t even know?

This white spot of light is killing me, killing my brain as if it has been even existed. Why do we even need friends? Why is it so important to be cared by someone else? Is it really something we look forward to?

My chocolate cereal is waiting for me. There is a footstep on the ceiling. I wouldn’t look at my back side, expecting to see a polar bear.

When someone have his rights to blame you with non-sense, why can’t you just blame him back? Why is it so bad?

The church’s bells are being tolled when the time is for only sleep. People are just sleeping for now or is it supposed to be all the time?

What do seduce the people to mark someone “fucking” else as a “cliché” person, when he’s just trying to tell about his feelings?

Feelings?..

What feelings?..

The Doors of Perception

The book “The Doors of Perception” contains two studies by Aldous Huxley. First, “The Doors of Perception” which is about Huxley’s trip with mescalin. This book explains only the story of his personal experience with mescalin. He tells about his visions while he’s under the influence of mescalin. He says that while under the influence of mescalin, we don’t care for our daily life. What would usually seem mundane in our everyday lives may turn into something vivid and vibrant because our interests change while experiencing a trip on mescalin. Example, from the mind of a writer, you don’t feel that you have to write some things. Little details are more important, in this case. For instance, Huxley focuses on the intensity of colors while on his trip with mescalin, in the book. So you may find yourself, sitting in a chair and thinking about the tissue of the couch. However, you’re not out of control when you’re under the influence of mescalin, which is good.

Second study is called “Heaven and Hell”. It raises the question “Why do we need drugs?” or “Why do we use drugs?” which contains the main reason of this process. Thus we may believe in the doors of perception.

The main thing I got from his writings is that people are thirsty for mystery; in other words, wondering about unknown. This triggers wanting to sense the environment in a different way.

In his book, he explains this curiosity with religion and some examples of visual arts. He says there is a different and unknown zone in our brains and we’re just trying to break through to it. So the ideas of “Heaven” and “Hell” may be coming from this mystery: Religion. He doesn’t focus on only one religion but many are talked about in the book.

He says, using shiny glasses in churches and mosques is about this feeling. The intensity of objects should make you feel mesmerized and stoned, to break through. So these temples take you to a sort of different dimension and you think it’s about the religion itself but he’s actually trying to say, “It’s all just illusion.”

On the other hand, there are people who feel like they’re in heaven with mescalin but there are also people who feel like they’re in hell with mescalin. So these “Heaven” and “Hell” concepts may just be about different parts of our brains. Subconscious, maybe.

He says, a person who takes mescaline will sense the environment like a schizophrenic person does; and a schizophrenic person may be happy with his hallucinations, or not. So this breaking through experience fits the story.

Maybe, we are not able to understand the whole environment with our actual minds. So these things we call “drugs” may be helping us to break on through to the other side, to sense and understand each mote as it supposed to be, as William Blake’s words:

“If the Doors of Perception were cleansed, everything would appear to men as it is, infinite.”