There are two under the infinite sky. And on a high, the light is grey. Empty, without any other hue among the entity. There are two and may be two alone. Stand in the garden of stone, with shadows lay beneath the endless mist.
Silence, ruler of all troubles, head of all languages, speaks out loud that the two won’t move even in an inch.
Then it must have been sin giving a path to the sadness. Regardless, the end comes before the story begins.
Suicide king and The Drama Queen, the two were recalled. Yes, recalled. For they’ve made them self forgot their origin.
Those born given name were swallowed by the storm sprung out from their very own conversation. That couple of the unbearable should’ve lived together in the matter of trust, in the house made of glass.
But all have gone and the make believes run out as they walked to the exterior.
Suicide King. He is the one who wears blues. He thought that the month was a month of May, but yesterday left only as a rainy day. So he takes a cup of iced strawberry coffee (bitter, sweet and sour; it’s the world flavors) and reads the books, trying to get involved with the incarnation of solitudes.
Drama Queen. She is the world. Turning around as there is no other way. Myths and legends were always told in a gay way (camera rolls, records, and 3, 2, 1, actions!). Her presence is the absent of logic, the casualty of memory.
Perhaps there are always two. But these two were neither stick as glue nor contradict as water to oil. They just made them self spoiled.
Once, Suicide King fought for a battle. He convinced himself that he walked the right road though it was rough. But no, his faith had betrayed him. He is lost. Floating with the powerless arms, nothing to be held of, he murders what he believed. In this matter, the suicide, he really is a king.
On the other side, the spouse, she got the way. She is in the place she used to be. With the crown she smiles to the world. Yes, the light is on and the crowds are grown. In the stages, when the drama begins, she really is a queen.
Where is everybody else? Did they lose their existence? Or is it merely reality giving its authenticity? Anybody? It looks like the answer simply comes from drain subsistence.
The grey light, the silence, the extinction of man, they let the two trying to remind what should remain. Searching for what’ve been sinking. Poor little king and queen, they don’t find what they’re looking.
