This is my land, that is your land

Hypnosis

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Picture this behind closed eyes:

You are standing very still. Breathing slowly. You try to listen to something, but there is no sound. There is no smell. You are standing still, in a wooden house. Your skin feels nothing. What is nothing?

Breathing slowly.

You try to remember who you are, or what you’re doing standing still in a wooden house. Nothing. No memory.

There is a sound.

Muffled voices. Strain your ears to listen to the whispers between lovers. Your consciousness shifts into their conversation and you leave your body to float within their essence. You realize that you only need to hold breath to leave body.

“No sense of sound, light, speech. No information goes into you through these senses. What do you do then?”

“Can I still feel?”

“Feel? How will you..”

“Through my skin?”

“Do you feel through your skin?”

“What do you mean? Of course I feel through my skin, when someone touches me, I feel something. Or if I hold on to a burning matchstick for too long because I’m stoned, I feel pain”

“So…you’ll be able to feel me even if you can’t see me or hear me?”

“Only if you’re close to me”

He shuffles his feet and looks down at the wooden floor, the sharp shadow created by the afternoon sun of a dying winter day streaks over his shoes that have left footprints in the dusty labyrinth that is this house.

He is resting against the wall on his side, and she is in front of him with the window between them.

There is nothing you can see outside the window apart from a glorious light that breaks through the dusty glass.

There is an odd taste in his mouth, reminding him of his grandfather.

He looks up at her and sees her staring outside the window. White light shape her face and she looks older than herself, like the moment before the white oleander touches the ground after falling from a tree.

He whispers “What if I’m far away. Will you still feel me?”

“I’ll call you every day, and write you letters…”

He moves his face close to hers and kisses her on the mouth. She closes her eyes.

The knife cuts open into her stomach and enters her skin, pushing a gasp out of her mouth. He moves in swiftly and holds her hips, pulling her closer to himself with his mouth on hers. She feels the pain rise up her spine and he bites her lip. This pleasure and pain combined transcends her consciousness into understanding that her body is capable of two extreme sensations at the same time.

With the knife lodged in her stomach he puts a hand on her vagina, slowly rubbing her while she bleeds .

Her body lies in a fetal position on the floor. Red stains the dust on the wood and he sits next to her, staring out the window. White light blinding his face. He can breathe now. He is no one anymore, nothing. His fingers interwined in her dead bones. A moth sits on his hand.

It could have chosen to sit anywhere else in the whole room.

You only chose to sit close to him.

Like a ghost.

You wake up in a forest with ants crawling over your feet

You wake up in a forest with ants crawling over your feet.

There is a foul taste in you but it reminds you of your lover, so you pick up a poison berry from the shrub under the shadow of the dying tree and put it into your mouth.

The ants die faster than you and you go back to sleep in the forest. Forever.
No…please don’t let it be morning…please…let the sun not rise…I need the darkness to hide in. the shadows comfort me as I become invisible, one with nothingness.

Please…kill the sun. please kill the sun.

Please.
The pleasure. The pleasure is beautiful. Our tongues running around our bodies, consuming our skin, our nails digging into our skin, our voices moaning beyond the whispers as we fuck. In the back of the moving car without a driver.

I grab on to your hair from behind you as you scream with bursting of our energy as we fall faster in the car.

We fuck harder.

The hill gets violent.

I fuck you.

So hard.

I love you right now. The only kind of love I know.

Deep inside you, I lay burning. Burning to explode like a billion stars rushing towards the light. Burning within; without the outside.
The car rolls over the cliff.

Parts of our body lie scattered in the valley below.

A snake eats my legs.

A vulture eats my eyes.

A coyote eats my mouth.

The crow takes my dick and flies away with it.

Rats finish up the rest.
Your body is covered by floating butterflies. They die as soon as they touch parts of you and cover your whole shell. You are clothed in dead butterfly wings.
I wish I could fuck you again. Lick you and eat you at the same time.
But then it wouldn’t last a lifetime.

A lifetime is just a blink of an eye.
There is nothing. Everything is a lie and that is the only truth. Trying to not think and thinking of trying to not think and trying to not think again and again and again and again and again.
Please eat the sun.
I can see the world explode underneath your clothes she said to me and I closed my eyes and I fell back, not caring if anyone was there to catch me. Waiting to hit ground, my eyes are closed and I try not to think of falling.

I’m still falling. .

It’s been two hundred thousand lifetimes and I am yet to crash into something. Still falling.
Still born. The moment I was born I died.

So did you. All of you.
As you open this letter, slowly, scared of getting a paper cut while your nose bleeds covering your white shirt, making patterns of cherry blossoms in the white.
Wait…as you open this letter, slowly, scared of getting a paper cut while your nose bleeds….it covers your shirt…I can see it from the corner of my eyes…so…as you open this letter…even before you’ve read the first line or tasted a word of mine…you bleed.
bleed.
You ignore the mirror as your reflection begs for some recognition and the sink is stained red no matter how much you try to rub it away. Vigourously searing away at the surface, trying to replace the red with white.
You open the letter
You smile and bite your lip
A fly sits on you
Consuming your warmth

while I watch from a distance chained to the bed like a dog without a tail and this moment Is so beautiful.
Whisper to me again

Of what you want and what I gave
Sky

The sky isn’t there today

Did you kill the sky?

It took me a long time to paint it.

Can you give me back my sky?
There’s a fly on your fucking eye
I wish I could taste you again just to fuck you again to be with you again and I would hate you even more than the love I don’t want to feel for the blood from your nose still lies on the letter

You read the first word
The first word that ever was and ever will be

The only word

There is no other
You try to memorize the word, holding it close to you tightly clenched in your palm as your long nails dig deep into your skin and your shirt burns to the ground.

Naked you love me more for I can see you and you can see me and no one else seems to mind the sun.

Kill the sun for me and you can keep my sky.
You say the worst

Buttons from moth eaten coat lie scattered amongst broken pieces of glass as the whole world looks at us.
Rolling around the floor with my hands tied at my back, I can’t breathe in this house of yours as the fire flows over your grandmother’s old chair and I can feel the fire but not see it.
You see me lying there in the heat, about to burn, about to resemble the last shade of grey in your castles dungeons.

About to entirely evaporate

If I wasn’t there, no part of me was there for you to hold or smell or touch or chew or feel or fuck or suck or kneel in front of on the ground or nibble or stab or burn or spit on or hold or punch or cut open with scissors or feed seeds of a sacred flower hoping it would grow out of a navel or to stand next to or have over you or under you or behind you or far far away from you or loving you.

If there was no part of me for you to love anymore
Not even a memory

Nothing
Would you care for me right now?
So let me fall into you once again and I swear I will hide deep inside a crevice of your deepest darkest wound that you never want to open again and ill heal you from the inside out until you and I become one and I try to not think of the time you read the first word of this letter that is right now in your hand and you are staring at me in the mirror and smile at me as I lie in the middle of your room, feet chained, hands tied behind my back as your house can be seen glowing like a new revolution’s spark in the dark night and I lie here turning into the shade of grey found in a graveyard

Will you burn to the ground with me?
We could get washed away in the rain and flow into the river where we would finally merge or if the wind is strong, it can carry us together, away from this self-created hell.

“Did you burn it?” I asked her

“I ate it”
I looked at her and smiled.
“That’s why I love you” I said to her

“you love me to fuck me”
I smiled and looked away
We get into her car.
The ink leaked from the pen I used to write her the letter

She drove us far away
My hands are stained blue

She’s sleeping in the backseat

And I’m driving far away
She wakes up and holds me

The road seems to never end

But I don’t mind

Never mind

dreaming

I did not write this

Immortality

As time slowly comes to an end, my mind is eaten away by the emptiness of my soul.
The music being played in my mind gets converted into unnecessary noise. My heart melts in the rain, just like all the metal houses on the planet. The whales start to jump out of their fish bowls into the red sky. The panda’s are no longer endangered, they are extinct.
All of us keep on chasing misprinted lines. We all fight our battles, alone, all alone. But we unite for the war that will affect us all.
All our rights are raped & burnt beside the crucifix, which is red due to the color of the dried blood.
As the vultures hang in mid- air, waiting to be devoured by the hardness of the sky, they realize their fate, faith.
Disappearing, disillusioned words. Our minds wander to the extraordinary fact. The apocalypse. The Armageddon.
All of our faith gets washed away. As we all wait for the end, we seem to realize all our mistakes.
Jihad, war, world war, politics, AIDS, abortion, murder, rape, acid rain, torture, prostitution, miracles, death, A.I., life.
Everything we owned will get submerged into the emptiness of the planet. We prepare ourselves for the evacuation.
Addiction, ecstasy. Our mother is dying, we killed her.
Nothing we do can change the consequence. We need to hold on, to each other, to ourselves.
As we all cry and the infants choke in the artificial air that we breathe and human created water that we drink,
We blame no one but ourselves for the end.
The silence is unbearably loud. We all get down on our knees and cry, no longer praying.
The end has come. Evacuation is impossible. Everything stops. Everything becomes zero.
Death. Survival? Impossible. Survivors? None.
As everything vanishes, a hint of life can still be felt.
In the far end of the planet, a seed is buried deep into our mother’s body who regains her strength. Who assures togetherness. We will rise, again.
Faith is regained.
Love is felt.

You wrote this?

Ashes

As the life slowly fades away from her eyes, I can no longer sense her pain.
The trick is not to cry. The trick is not to laugh. The trick is not to smile.
The trick is, that there is no trick.
Trick¿
The music never seems to stop. Her last words are drowned by the silence of the music.
Then as she fades away from my mind, heart…I realize and laugh.
The mystery has been solved. The questions have been answered.
Everything is connected.
Physics¿ …matter, anti-matter, warp speed, time warp, supernova, energy, vector, light…everything is connected.
I realize that we all are just part of this huge system.
We are the cells of the battery that run the system.
We all die, and are regenerated as new forms of energy.
No heaven, No hell¿.
Just plain reuse, reduce & recycle.
Humans? Just a bunch of used up rechargeable batteries. Just a form of energy.
Just like the sun…just like the stars.
As I look up to the night sky, waiting for signs to show me my end, I see the stars.
The stars that constantly shine for me. The stars that guide me.
That’s where I have to go. To the stars.
The stars…

Who wrote this?

Abyss


Because tonight I saw you breathe,
I saw the abyss in your eyes,
In the cold, wake away,
Too hot, hide away…

I feel like a hole,
Bound free,
Whispered loud,
I breathe,
Try to wake up…

Maybe in the gray,
Tonight I felt you fall,
Away

You are…whole…
Tonight…I die alone…
Signal with your eyes
Maybe tomorrow…
I won’t be home…

little bit of gold, little bit of pearl

bodhidreams' photostream

bodhidreams' photostream on Flickr.

i cant see it while clicking it,
oh no i cant see it,
no no no,
ok thats it.

Sorry about the pen. I was feeling impatient.
Photoshop.

New images

I've been working on some T-shirt designs since the past week and came up with these. I also realized cats are very mysterious creatures to draw.

Few pages from my first attempt at digital coloring for an illustrated novel

Rain

I awake to hear sounds getting washed away in the rain
Look outside to see silhouettes of ghosts running around in the lightning streaked night
The stillness on the earth is shaken by the violence in the sky

I am drugged into reality by the stealthy buzzing of mosquitoes around my brain
The slow moving shadows created by the passing of a black cloud over the full moon
I wait for you to speak to me breaking this silence and stillness

I am with you on this island that is my room
And we are hidden by the falling waters over my grandfather’s old tin roof
All I feel is your skin in this dark night

Warm breath escapes you and envelopes my soul
Like the whale that consumes me under the dark never ending night in my lonely dreams
I float above the wave listening to the tinkering of your senses

Like the sailor who gave in to the depth of the ocean
I slowly give in to the blackness of your hair and drift and float and fade away
Awaken me from this dream of you or I shall lose myself ever and anon

Gypsy Blood

Gypsy Blood

He sits silently on a bench in front of the ocean while the waves in him rage as violently as the waves in the distance. The tears flowing down his face reflect the orange glow of the drowning sun. The air rushing into his nicotine-lined lungs tell him that it is going to be a cold night and maybe the sudden dip in temperature was the reason for the death of the dragonfly lying next to him on the bench.

He has never spoken a lot. People think he is sad, but in reality he just didn’t like talking much. He hadn’t heard anyone talk to him for a very long time either because all people did was to scream at him.

He had not grown any taller since the age of 15 but he doesn’t seem to mind. His strong jaw and strong arms scare most of the people in town. All he does is drink whisky in the local bar and he always leaves a good tip for the waitress. The only time you see him smiling is when he is sitting alone in front of the waves smoking his green leaf. He never hits animals but he is not shy of hitting a man.

He sits in front of the crashing waves, staring at the knife in his blood stained hands and wondering what came over him to not achieve what he had initially intended. Maybe it was the love of the violent moment in the presence of all those people who wanted to see blood being spilt and a life being taken, that led him to use his knife to end that boy’s life. If that boy’s friend hadn’t insulted his mother, maybe he wouldn’t have been so enraged. In the ensuing fight, they had tried to smash his glass eye which had angered him even more. The small quarrel had turned into a brawl and the brawl turned into a blood bath with the death of a boy who wasn’t even part of the provocation.

It was an accident. It was all an accident.

The sand starts to freeze under his feet indicating the coming of night. The sun has been eaten up by the waves and it has vomited out the moon. The stars are glowing as if they were fireflies stuck in the sky. His eyes become heavy and his muscles start to loosen up as he slowly sinks within himself to fall asleep on the cold hard stone bench.

He wakes up in a dream of a room where the only source of light is from a small opening the size of a brick. He has the knife in his hands and he sees her reflection looking down on him while he stares at the blood on the knife. He tries to speak to her but she seems to be distracted by the sound of the rain. The pain in his head becomes throbbing frustration. The more he tries to get close to her, the more he realizes that his mother is not even there. This is all just a fucking dream and as soon as he realizes it, the opening through which the beam of light was entering closes and he is buried in complete darkness and silence.

He wakes up to realize that the pain in the back of his head has been replaced by a strange light inside his his eye. This is equally annoying. He squints for a while and opens his eyes to realize that the light is actually a frozen teardrop. He brushes it away and slips back into his dream.

He is now a little boy sitting in a forest waiting for his father to come and get him. After all, he had promised that he would come. But it has been long and he is thirsty. The ants have been biting his toes and have crawled up to his neck. Soon the leeches will cling to his face and drink the blood inside of him. Flies are hovering over his right eye which was ruined when his father once poked a stick burning in whiskey into it and now it is bleeding. Why did he tie him to the tree though? The tree feels hard on his back and the sun burns his eyes.

He is woken by the sun searing his face. Dehydration and a lack of food make him nauseous and dizzy. He starts walking towards the edge of town because he knows he needs to be away from everyone after what he did last night. His breath stinks of cheap alcohol and five-day old food stuck in the crevices of his teeth.

He keeps walking aimlessly away from the town into the desert, away from civilization. Then he comes upon some houses. Some women live here. He has been warned about them but he doesn’t believe. He walks up the dusty road to a house and knocks on the door. There is a dead fire outside and a stench of dying dogs. The door opens slightly and he walks in to be greeted by darkness and a strange smell of old paper and dead lizards. He sees an old woman sitting in front of a table. She gestures for him to sit with her. She mixes some things in a cup and gives it to him to drink. He asks her for the way out of town but she insists on him drinking first.

He swallows.

The next thing he remembers is that waking up in darkness. Naked, and the water is slowly rising. It is touching his ankles right now and the air is less. He doesn’t know what is happening. He starts screaming. He wants something more than the silence, darkness and cold.
And then he hears all of them laughing. All of them, at the same time. And from far away, at the top of where his vision stretches, he sees a couple of torches lit and several women staring down at him. They have crooked teeth and some of them are eating dung.

“Do you think that is water?” they say, and laugh. He looks down in the semi darkness and begins sensing that the liquid is much thicker that water. When he dips his hand into it and takes it out, his hand turns into a darker color.

He is drowning..

“You killed one of our sons. Our son. You do not take away a gypsy’s son, boy. You do not harm a gypsy or her kin. Now you will die in the blood of a hundred goats and chickens as you choke and sputter to breathe”

They disappear and he is again immersed in darkness while the blood keeps rising.

He wishes that he could do something. He wishes he could get go back in time and stop his father from tying him to the tree. He wishes he could go back and help his mother survive. He wishes things that he will never get anymore. Never.

The blood has risen up to his eyelids and he is trying to swim in it but he doesn’t have any strength. It’s easier for him to give up rather than try and win a lost battle.

He lets go and swallows the blood until it fills up his lungs. He dies with his eyes wide open but there is nothing he can see anymore.

His body is floating in the blood of chickens and goats under the house of the gypsy women and no one will ever find him again because he will soon turn into just another drop of blood in the deep well of blood under the gypsy’s home.

Anima Mundi

There is a cycle for everything. A balance of sorts. The story starts during the beginning of winter and ends with the beginning of spring. The moon plays a role, alignment of stars.

The Womb

is breathing

I will feel alive, as long as i am free...

Self Portrait and Caricature

Some Characters