The Hunter and The Hunted
It is not real but it inspires me, I am not inspiring but she follows my steps as if my pathway is her only path, she struggles to see the signs and the warnings, the red eyes and the blood filled hands. I am not a murderer but I am guilty, no charges but I am being judged, no cameras but I am always being watched. The twisted concept of dark minds with wild desires and no fear that I often feel myself fearing the results, how confused are the thoughts that drown in my day. The ideas are like swans flying above clouds drifting through the sky as if immortal until the east winds blow and reality reminds it, reality affects it.
It then becomes the lands ant, stocking up for the next day and carrying weights above its shoulders and as it runs from the droplets pouring from the infinite skies it is devoured by the liquid, the gas and the fire. The solitude of death is far; rather the feeling was as if immortal and death is purposely the only way out. I feel my heart getting deeper in and the strength of my grip becomes unbearable, it was not conceived to hold the conscience of a curious wild and endangered species. Yet because I stand and fall, so will she and because I have no clue where I am going she will choose a path of swans and ants, in a city of expectations but that heavily rains.
My sun has been shining on another part of my earth, I only have the rain – so I plant, grow and cultivate bad crops, and can you blame me? I am so deep in it, that it comforts me with one hand around my throat and the other hand wiping my tear from the eye on my left but it becomes her right. And she sees nothing and so she will fly above the clouds then drown in her ideas just as I. I see her, but I can not stop her, I peer from the distance. I am in a sinister place with no illumination and there is ‘it’ and ‘her’ and at times I do not know if I am the hunter or the hunted.
7 Stories, 1 Perspective.
Story 1: The Hunter and The Hunted
Story 2: Summertime Love
Story 3: Luminous