The city is frozen. All the streets are painted with the same sleet. My heart freezes slowly. Step by step, each beat longer and colder than the one before. Still moving sinews keep my body from falling, but the flesh of my heart is turning into ice. I would jump to the first arms that offered me warmth and sanity, but the streets are all empty, not a saint, nor a sinner in which I’ll find any hope. Another step and the fibers of my heart are completely frozen. I have sinned, I am the one to blame. My heart feels no more. I have tasted the forbidden skin, I feel the damned flesh still in my lips.
Who was she? Nor angel or demon, maybe a succubus in rapture. She had no name, she seduced me softly, and in hunger I sinned, just to feel my heart again, but I had lost it. I recall nothing of such a dreadful night in Thelema, all the doleful actions, all in the sacred name of pleasure. All the fears gone for an instant, all the doubts, all the issues. Just the divine white light of decadence, just the tumultuous frenzy of the sins of the flesh. And there it was all gone, all the warmth, all the passion. Just the darkness hung around, a silent witness, a mocking judge. And all the peace that I had found was destroyed by waves of tears, and all the hope faded amidst the long drapes of the night. I tried tu run, I ran away, I ran as fast as I could, but I couldn’t scape the cold. The freezing darkness soon covered me, and what once was a beating human heart, became an ice stone.
And she left me by the river, all alone under the pale moonlight. She was nothing but a dream, but the cold lingers on. The freezing fear of consciousness, of the hunger, of the desire. My veins were drained, as were my dreams. She had taken all away. And I never knew who she was. I guess I’ll never will.
