statue of a woman in love

It was an evening marked by shady sunlight and he felt those sun rays were like little fish floating in the air, and he doesn’t know why but all he knew was it was just like that. And then, the woman in love asked him

Why do you turn everything into such a complex mess? Can’t you be simple?

He was surprised. He was swimming with the little fish floating among the trees. Those fish carried flowers and rose petals, which told him that they were children of the god. He was surprised because people couldn’t understand it and he thought that everything was simple. so simple. Later

He took a sharp knife as sharp as the edge of the being and pierced himself seven times to the left of his chest. Drops of blood trickled. A little later they turned into white butterflies with the eyes of blood. They hovered around him and settled on the naked breasts of woman in love. As he tried to see, he found out that there were no breasts for the woman in love but only marks of raw wounds out of which grew a nest with a three-month-old aborted fetus.

The fetus, a pool of blood, grew little wings and began to fly. He, with blood on his chest, his mouth and eyes, stared at the fish, fetus and the woman in love. As he stared, the woman in love slowly turned into a statue with her hands stretched towards eternity as if to hold something or to let off something. The statue of woman in love. “Statue of the woman in love” he mumbled as tears flowed from his eyes and her vagina, “God, why is life so simple?”

Statue of a woman in love. Her tongue was cut. It had eyes, only her eyes were living and breathing, breathing and living, with two red roses beginning to blossom in the place of her breasts. “Roses of blood” he thought, “roses of blood are the blood of the roses.” As he wept with joy, the eyes of the statue of woman in love yearned for a place where they could be prayed. “Hunter becomes the hunted” he thought, “Observer becomes the observed. Are these roses of blood or words of breast that I am picking up?”

Statue of a woman in love: a little boy stares at the blood and at her eyes which fiercely moved like trees in a violent night. He thought, “Is there a language? Is there a body? Is there a language without a body and a body not sculpted in language?” And then

A song, only a song sank into the depths of the earth. A song by the statue of a woman in pain dissolved into the depths of the universe, into the depths of his self and the little boy standing there. He weept with joy and mumbled to the little boy, “This is how the universe began. This is how life began. This is how everything begins: this is what love is, this is what death is as it is. Don’t you see, god, why is life so simple?”

Statue of a woman in love: stone eyes stone thighs and stone breasts bleeding milk of blood, love and death so that the kid in front of the woman in love could drink and live, live and drink, could drink the blood and write, could cuddle under shade of her breasts, rosebushes and sleep so that later he could, little by little, sculpt and hurt her little by little, so that later talk about statue of a woman in love with living breasts, so that later he could write about how the statue had become a home to him and told him stories, of how he drank her blood, her tears of vagina

Only to see, only to see that he could kill her, little by little, in order to live, and write about

the blood, the body, the home and birds that he took away from her, little by little: just like that.

God, why is life so simple?