The Door

THE DOOR He cannot open that damn door. He´s been thinking about doing that.He´s been thinking about that. He´s been thinking about doing that for the last two months but finally made up his mind not do it anymore. He also knows all about that unforgettable stuff.That dead chicken scratching his back just like those odd premonitions on that rainy day.Someone strikes over him, the one who is right there, in the hallway of pain and sorrow, is the one who almost killed him ten years ago. He´s aware of the fact that the man outside is rather regretful concerning that weird episode. He just wants to see him and apologize for all that. He refuses to open that damn door no matter what. Locked himself up 2 weeks ago for some piece and quiet. He´s now stuck inside the word piece. He ´s now stuck inside the word quiet.He´s now stuck inside the word door. He´s now stuck inside the word knob. He´s now stuck inside the adjective closed off. He has a special fondness for the preposition verb. He is happy about the fact that it can affect the meaning of several verbs. He´s stuck inside the idiom cut off, he´s stuck inside the idiom knock off, he´s stuck inside the idiom choke off. He is nothing more than his own shadow. He looks around and sees what is supposed to be seen. All those objects are indifferent to him. He’s less than a chair or he’s less than a cigarret butt resting upon that damn carpet. He likes that damn word carpet. He likes to have sexy inside the word carpet. He´s allergic to dust so he does sneeze everytime he pronounces the word carpet. He’s now chatting with the table. He’s just turned into the word table.He cannot go anywhere since there’s no one to carry him around.He’s got four long legs taken it’s a big table.He’s now flat and inanimate, therefore unable to do anything. He will be taken away some day. He’ll be probably rejected by a fussy housewife some day. I can see those huge cockroaches crawling over him craving for the left overs. I can see those repulsive ants doing the same. I can see whatever can be seen on that damn table wherever it might be. I can see whatever my faky mind shows me right now.My mind that needles my decadent body right in front of that broken mirror.The smell of that swill coming into my nostrils. Since the food was delicious that family cut and came again.Got some chicken left but he does not feel hungry, he does not feel what is supposed to be felt.He is just a table or a single word melted in the pot of disdain.He’s now way beyond life and death. He´s now beyond the word life and death.

He drinks five shots of whisky and has the strange sensation that the sofa is moving in on at him.He stands up and is now ready to fight against that ghost that is vainly trying to extricate itself from that lonely soul. He pictures himself hovering above the living room so as to brood over his ordinary existence.He watches himself having a cup of coffee + some bread.He can count the bread crumbs scattered all over the table now.He sees hundreds of invisible birds pecking at them right in front of him.He also watches that huge lion devouring the birds in less than 4 seconds.The lion stalks at them and just does what has to be done.The use of the passive voice in this case is vital to give the above scene some degree of cruelty. That damn picture is now growing intensely into his sick mind like the crashing of the waves on a desert beach somewhere.His tormented frame of spirit takes him to the beach.He’s now walking on the sand.He bumps into a pronoun who asks him about the weather.That pronoun is not in a good mood that day.The word weather is now blended into the word flurries which is blended into the word blizzard which is blended into the word spell which is blended into the verb to thaw.All these words together help create the image of a burning hell.This seems to be a special image due to the fact that is originally quite,which means here less than very and more than a little,abstract.A very special image,the one which manages to rid of itself to plunge into the infinite. He gives the pronoun some information in the past and present tense.It seems that the pronoun has the intention of travelling abroad.He does think that the man outside is about to kill him.He is absolutely unaware of the fact that he is really sorry for all he did to him. He sits numb and cannot think much right now.He stands up and decides to walk for air since the stage has just been set. He climbs down the stairs and opens the front door in the present tense.Tries to find a name for himself,but all to no avail.He leaps into the dark streets of his tormented frame of spirit as he ambles along the avenue. He is scrutinized by the trees most of the time.He senses he’s been looked at.Someone is very close to him right now.That brawny man pulls out a gun on his funny face.He displays no reaction and does his very best not to call people’s attention. They turn right and go straight ahead.They do not talk so they get to a house right on the corner.He forces our man to sit down.He fixes our man a drink.He uses the word some in the interrogative to offer our man a drink.He asks our man a couple of questions about this and that.He uses the modal would in a polite request context request to offer our man a damn drink.Our man goes for that.Our man wipes over the word tombstone.The word

tombstone is now treading on the grass.The word graveyard flows into our man´s soul.He can now see the word soul waving at a distance.He´s is now levitating inside the word distance. He´s now levitating inside the verb to gaze. He tells our poor man to spell the word death.He says that letter d stands for door, he says that letter e stands for evil, he says that letter a stands for animal, he says that letter t stands for tombstone, he says that letter h stands for haunted..He keeps on lecturing on the letters and does seem to be extremely proud about that.He looks around a couple of times.He realizes his solitude is stuck in the traffic.He´s now blended into the word word.He´s now blended into the word enclosure. The word gun is the leading word in his madness.As he looks around, he realizes that there’s no furniture in that house.He realizes there’s nothing inside wherever and whenever there’s intense ever-growing anguish coming from within. He’s as blind as the word blind. The man in question has a gun aimed at his head.He’s ready to go or to die right away.The other man laughs at him and puts that damn gun down.He curses that man and sits on the floor and looks at the ceiling in order to talk to the lights.He scratches his balls and realizes that his existence is naturally smelly and dirty.He sees a bunch of rats getting trapped somewhere.He cannot do anything about that anymore. He observes the rats coming and going and feasting themselves on that more than welcomed grubb.He sighs when he realizes he has the word rat inside his mouth.He chews that damn word for a couple of minutes and asks the killer to do what he is supposed to do. The man in question is now as dead as door nail.The word nab has just nabbed him.The word just sounding as if it had a lump in its throat.The word throat blended into the word streak The word blood coming right out of that damn mouth.

2

The messenger.

Never had he thought of doing what he did on that day. He was just a little kid playing in the backyard of that house. He remembers giving the postman some information about this or that address. I could see that glittering in his eyes from the very beginning. He has got this funny habit which has always intrigued me. He looks into the eyes of that man for the very first time. The man feels kind of weird about that little boy that tells him what he’s already known by ignoring it. The postman turns his back on him as the dogs bark nervously at nothing for the sake of their madness. That little boy can’t help looking into people’s eyes.It as if he had something to say to those who were handpicked by him. I don’t really now whether that boy was more relevant than the word boy. I guess that the word boy, which is essentially a noun, is a bit more relevant than the boy himself. I wonder where that word might be right now. He is said to have been buried in the cemetery of its imagination. The syntax cannot answer for it right now. It’s just vanished into everybody’s lives. That boy, who can be easily mistaken by the word boy, is now feeding the dogs in the yard. He suddenly looks back and sees a dead corpse right in front of him. The postman seemed to have had a great time deep inside the word time. He might have swallowed a bunch of letters before meeting the maker. He had gone back to that strange house to tell the boy he was aware of the fact he had done his very best to achieve his goals. He wanted to tell the boy all about his new life. He wanted to tell the boy all about his trip to India.

3

Visions Whatever is not here pains me.Words come and go so I still see nothing.I vainly try to depict the invisible.What can not be seen knocks at my door every single day. I search for whatever disregards the ingrained numbness of whatever is to be said.The verb to say plunges into the water to drown itself before an unruffled physis.There’s no music in the movements that grow around me.Poetry is needed to stain this image like that mad man who slit his throat in front of nobody.

A streak of blood comes out of the image’s mouth.There comes the act of swallowing the nausea which is now quite pleasant through the advent of art. Weakened by that, so does the acting of puking pop up like the harmonious crashing of the waves in my eardrums.We can bear it now though there’s no way out. I feel a bit quizzy every so often.The word stomach bumps into the word needle in the very core of my lonely soul.

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If I had bought that house I would have gotten divorced If I had gotten divorced I would have been better off If the past had affected the present I would be rich now If I got a lot dough I’d cut myself off from the rest of the word If I got no more than five words I would certainly hide behind them If I had nothing in my hands I would ask the wind to blow my soul away.

At last he had the guts to say that to himself that day.His wife had gone shopping so he found himself alone in that huge house.So aloof he was that, after writing what he wrote on that piece of paper, He did not realize that he had shit in his pants. He stared at those If clauses as if he were one of them.He looked desperately for a full stop since one of his kids was crying for food upstairs.The preposition above came down hard upon him.He couldn’t move just like any weird stop whose main role in life is to hamper the flow of any given thought