here's a skeč with only white ceruzka

Autor: Kornel Krakovský | 19.3.2020 o 1:04 | Karma článku: 0,00 | Prečítané:  9x


restless nights of doing nothing at all

have caught up to me

now I'm tired

and weary


through my window I enter those

field field fields

empty field field fields


and the empty fields are full of

empty bodies of beautiful women

their empty eyes look

for fulfillment

draining the green from the grass

which is now contained in their fingernails


their fingernails shine under the empty sun

and the empty green radiates

like a field of jade


their smooth skin is now

the smooth smooth field


and I lay on it

weary, from the world


when I wake up I see

I just fell asleep on you,

my dear

and the emptiness





was just me


and you...


...dressed in pearly white


like a blank canvas

or a pair of pearls

like your eyes


empty like a well with no water

empty like a coin

-or a word that shines in my hand

and I drop it into the deep

and the emptiness dissapears

as the splash at the bottom

echoes out your name


empty like

the life of day-to-day

empty like the emptiness

that makes our bones sturdy (or break)

our skin feel

and our souls burning


empty like most of the words

that get through my head

in a day

empty like looking outside

and seeing the far far far away


and then, 

I feel


as you bury your nails deep into my hearth

and it spurs out five rivers

which enclose between them the world


as the hearth runs dry

and I become one with the soil

at 6 crossing points of the 5 rivers

6 times I was reborn


the first one danced with you all night

and kept you warm

till the morning

and at the bring of the sunlight he fled

before you would dot the same thing


the second one listened

as you cut your lip

with your sharp words

and he gently ran through them with his finger

and gave them a healing kiss


the third watched from the shadows

still dripping from the river red

with red in his eyes

and the souls of many men

dried, on his hands


the fourth said a lot

paired words and sounds as he could

he wanted to be a wizard

He was the mightiest,

when he felt the weakest.

He is now dying

with lightning lightning out

from each of his fingers


The fifth ran

and swore to never look back

but he looked everytime he tought

no one was looking at him

he hid his care

in carelessness

he ran as fast as he could

so he can come back from the other side

as soon as he could


the sixth had it all figured out

he was empty

collecting toughts

he found the five

he slit their throats

drank their blood

stole their goals


the sixth man

on the sixth day

became a man

but only after he died

six times before




I repeat

just so you know

what you always knew

but maybe never had the courage

to reassure yourself

and It's the fact 

that the most beautiful toughts

are always beside the darkest


they mention hearths

as a symbol of love

in that sense

how much more love do you see

when I kill 6 men

and drink their blood

use six hearths as six cups







I paint with only white

so the flaws are more visible

all the bruises


all the dirt


the darkness hides you.

It hid me

so I had time to collect myself

but when you do

it's time to present

all that you collected

all that you built

under the light

on a canvas

of pure white


and it's not dirt

don't be scared

that you made that holy white canvas dirty

just because it's white...

all that means

its that It's empty

you give it the meaning


the killing

the blood

the disformed monsters

with slithering tongues


we all cast shadows

thats how you know, you're there

if you just go towards the sun

you will burn


so I

the Sixth

found all the others

and did to them

unthinkable things

now they are

flesh of my flesh

and blood of my blood

so that I could realise

the point

to my emptiness


but in the meantime of course

as I ate them up

I also drank up their nightmares

in which I often find myself drowning


often I try to,

clear my mind

I just close my eyes

and rest my limbs

and yet

I find myself screaming

as loud as I can

between the six walls of my soul


and that's an awful thing right?

feels like being trapped in a hexagram of

my homegrown near madness


is it?

or is it awful just because it's not

pure white


is it awful just because it has

long black claws

instead of nicely cut fingernails?


is it awful because

it has sharp black teeth

which bit of a chunk

from the neck of the universe?

instead of a

lying and ever-pleasing tongue of a coward?


It's not dressed in white

like the man with a suitcase

who came to sell you yourself


It's just a man

dying under the hands of a witch

and came back

just so he could again

5 times kill himself


he's the sixth


and right now

he has his madness once again

in his hands

the only things that is missing

from his fulfillment

is emptiness


and as he buried

his past

five times

there's one more

person left


it's the witch

who started it all

by digging her nails

through his chest


he counsels the bones

from his dead selves

and they tell him

where to find her


and he goes

with a goal set

and the reds still on his hands


he finds her

laying on her bed

in the hours of early morning

tired, asleep

from the days tests


and he lays next to her

finding his emptiness

and putting his eyes



and all his six dead selves

to rest


drawing white letters


on her chest

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