Death beyond the wall

It was a wasteland. I gazed through the rectangular whole at the things of the world which lay beyond. I could no longer see death who had became my savior. The bricks that surrounded the
gaping maw, were cold and laced round with old mortar. It was mortar that had been placed there from before...twice again. This time the material crumbled when I touched its surface.

"sollte ich den Wiederaufbau der Mauer?" She whispered quietly back into me.

Around the open whole, only three bricks away was another...and then another wide gap in my firmament. There were several peices missing to my fortified puzzle. I knew where they were, they
lay in death's pocket. My breathing grew rapid as I searched first one opening then the next.
Only the day before had I seen him, his long black robe brushed the earth with this happenings. He looked right through me as he passed  by my wall. I reached out to touch the hem of his
garment and I felt the loose bricks clunking together within his cloak of black. He felt me grasp him and so he looked down with his deep pit sockets of despair. I swear i saw death smile at
me. His mind touch the edge of my own consiousness then he passed on through the countryside and back into his own existence. I stood with arms thrust through my own openings and wept for his
departure. I sunk and hung loosely from the wall.

"Bitte, lass mich nicht hier ohne Antwort." The thing cried within

It was not long that I stood there waiting for death. I felt the urge to run away into the darkness behind me. I pulled myself free from my entrapment and bolted into the midnight dusk of the
forest of my home. There were rambling and tangling vines that grasped me, pulling me down. I struggled at first finding my footing again over and over. But then it was time to rest and so I
lay down among the brambles of my heart. It was there I found my pen and writing pad. So I wrote a letter to my dear friends. I wished to tell them what I planned to do and yet, I wished to
give them comfort of time that had to decide when I would take my leave.

Dear ones,

shhh, do not worry. Rehearsal time is not yet  been established. Death is gone for now and but I expect him to return. I'm still wild in search of my burial clothes and the table but still
set ... No one has come to dinner. When the time comes, do not fret. Do not think it a long time that when I have left. For this world is an illusion and I long to know the truth. I want to
be with my death, beautiful ...and often rehearsed with every detail having love's pure rejection sharpened...honed to the task of eliminating me. I want each breath before my last to be iced
with sweet torment. And I want you to stand over me and whisper softley ...."Ich werde dich dort treffen".

What is life for? What is the point of all this suffering, this hatred and this endurance that was dissatisfied? Bricks are missing in my wall and the air is unforgiving that I feel sending
shocks through the empty parts of my soul. I just want to sleep because I can not sleep any more among the living. I hunger, I long, and I avoid the light. I hate this horrrible torment
Sometimes love is not enough, hurts my heart. I long to know the end, the whole damn reason I breathe at all. Why feels my flesh, why my heart is breaking and why my eyes will not sleep.

My dear ones, I lay among my defeat and welcome the crumbling peices to cradle me until I feel no more. For I am one with this world, this putrid deep deep forest. I have traveled here time
and time again between my dreams. The nectar of rejection knows its home in my heart. I smile...I smile as the door opens and my black heart comes back in to me...alone. I smile and wrap my
arms around my emptiness and I say...welcome home, my love.

He will come soon, I feel the clouds starring down at me here. My blood fears what he shall do. But death promised to always be a friend to me, you must understand. I cannot stay here
forever, safe within my own trappings. I shall have to face the coming ceremony, the feast and the reaping. I shall see death again, he never really stays away for long.

you true demon
s

Companion death

Of course I shouldn't feel excruciating pain but it is there regardless. Strangly, it is still in the corner wearing its black robe. So the trees wave in the background and make that awfully
scary sound; the one that sounds like nails scratching the pavement, like hair brushing from my face...and like the last time we kissed.


As a little girl playing dollies, you were there with me. You taught me how to put them to sleep with my poison. I had bottles of blue, bottles of green...all sorts of bottles I stole from
father's shed. You laughed at me when I watched my dollies die. I put my little hand over my mouth in horror. You were like proud father death then. I was just beginning to know what hell
was.


Then, in another lifetime, you were whispering secrets in my ear by the road side. When I couldn't drive anymore because I was sexually aroused to the point that I was almost using my mind to
stimulate myself. I couldnt stay in my own lane that time and so I pulled to the shoulder of the road to finish. Your voice was strange and heated, filled with a thick creamy foam that I
imagined to be your manhood's tears. You were there during those strange years and you were my little death.


Of course I shouldn't cry for you because it would be a silly thing to do. I hate the way they cling to me but now I cling to you. Your shadow wavers by the door. YOur hand print is growing
cold and dreams of you will surely come in nightmares upon my tight closed lids. I have no more faith for goodness of this world.

My brain is ridden with cobwebs of love's demise. I cannot hope for things that I steal. I cannot beg for things, my pride is hidden beneath the bricks of a crumbling wall
I see the figure by the trail in the moonlight. I think I recognize the bones of the face. I know its you....

but I shall stay within the thorny brambles of my heart...for now.

Diary of Dispair

day 1


I hate this place. I hate the way it smells and the sounds that I hear when I am trying to sleep at night. I hate it for many reasons that I cannot talk about too. I hate this place.


day 2


I still hate this place but I hate it more than yesterday. But something has crept into the hate and shares a room with it, so to speak. I hate that I hate this place because it is just a place without real reason at all, just a place.

I heard the phone ring and I ignored it. I knew it was you and I didnt want to tell you that everything would be okay, for the fiftenth time.

It wasn't my fault, after all. I just did what was right and you dont know it was me. I know it was me...and it makes me hate this place more.

I hate my toothbrush in the little white canister sitting upon the sink. I hate it because if it had eyes, it would stare at me and accuse me of something I didnt do.


day 3


I heard a knock at the door and I thought it was you so I didnt answer. I could smell men's cologne but I still thought it could be you, so I didnt answer.
I turned on the television too and watched an episode of something. For some reason, I cannot even remember what was on television today. I know that everyone was looking at the cameras like they could see me watching them. There was one girl that looked like you and so I turned the televison off again.

I just sat here for hours and thought about a book I used to read on the War. But then I thought about my war inside, that led me to you. I hate this place.


day 4


I did it again. I checked into my fake account to see if you had left anymore messages but you hadnt. I had this feeling that you had wrote a message to my fake persona and then you erased it. I decided to stay offline for a while. I need to pay my bill so that I can stay online. If I close my account, you will think I am avoiding you and you might call. I really dont want you to call because I wouldnt know what to say to you.

I am sorry, but I hate saying I am sorry. When I say I am sorry, they can see the real me. I cant let them see the real me. I cannot let you see the real me. This place feels like it is shrinking and swallowing me whole. I hate being here but I cannot leave. If I leave, I might see you. I dont want to see you...because I am sorry.


day 5


I didnt get out of bed today because it was raining. I know how much you love the rain adn I thought you might be out and about. I thought for some crazy reason that you might come see me. I cant see you because then I would cry

..because it really is my fault.


day 6


I am sorry that you are there and I am here and I do not see your face anymore. I hope you are well but I cannot call you because I just cant. I have no reason to give you for not calling except that I am a coward. I look aroudn and this place reminds me of you because it is without you. I am without you and probably will forever be without you.

The phone rings again and I hate this place more. I stand and i pace, I stand and I scream. But then I panic because maybe you heard me. Maybe you know that it was my fault. Maybe you will come.
I am scared that you will come and so I climb in the bed adn pull the covers over my head. I head the refrigerator and the noises it sometimes makes. I know you can hear them too...no matter how far away.

I feel your voodoo eye and I start to cry.

please forgive me


day 7


I havent eaten since you left. I hate food. I hate this place. I hate my toothbrush. I hate the phone.

I hate me.

I hate me

I hate me

I am not hungry. I am not thirsty. I try to eat a peice of bread but the noise is so loud that I stop. I think you can hear me. I know it hurts you and so I throw the bread away.

I panic when the bread hits the garbage can and it makes so much noise.

The phone rings and I throw it against the wall. Maybe you were calling. Maybe you heard me break the phone. I hate that phone. I hate this place

I hate you

I am sorry


day 8


I am tired.

I am sleepy

But I cannot go to sleep because then you would come. YOu would knock on my door, ring my phone and then you would scream and cry your torment through the door. I would let you in and I would tell you that I am sorry and then you would forgive me.

But I cannot do that.

Because I am not sorry

I did it

I had to

because I was a coward


day 9


I am sorry

I wish I could take it back

but I cannot do that

but then if I could, I dont think I would

because you would know I care.

but i dont care

i hate you

i hate you

I hate this place

your eyes are in the walls, your eyes are in the mirrors, in my coffee

your blood is running down the walls

I hear you knocking on my door

i hear you ringing my phone

I hear you calling my name

I see you everywhere

I hate my eyes

I hate my ears

please

I am tormented

I am sorry


day 10


I am sorry

The horror

It had been more than two weeks inside the cell. I felt the hands that werent really there, I felt them. I knew that beyond the wall on the left was your cell and the one on the right was empty. I heard them talking too, every night I heard them discussing what they were going to do to me when the time came to bring me from the cell. I didn't really care anymore because time in the cell had dried my reserve and taken hope from my basket. But I lie, I do care. I do not wish to suffer, I wish to die.

My hands were tarnished from digging. My nails were broken from scrapping with a broken hair pin that I found in the corner. I dont know which is more broken, the pin or my will. The blood on
my wrists had dried and crumbled in places where the wounds had healed. I felt defeated. Yet, I heard you whimpering next to me through the stone of the wall. And so I whispered to you
lovingly.

"shhh my dear, I will tell them it was me...all me. I will insist they let you go in exchange for my information...I promise."

And you responded with nothing because you hated me. I could feel your hatred as sure and sharp as a knife. I wanted to explain the reasons for my harsh words but I could not. They were just
too complicated. There was just too many wounds to heal and I would soon meet my fate.

"Listen, they will come for me but I will be gone. I have sent them a message that you shall serve as their reason to break these walls. They will come too late, you see. They will come too
late for me."

The tears I should have, I have none. I cried the first 4 nights because you had abandoned me. Then when they found you, I sat by the wall to your cell and just listened. I heard your
prayers....to your family, to your god. I heard your weeping and it seemed distant. And then your weeping coaxed my own tears to come again and I then forgave you for deserting me. How many
times did I forgive you for deserting me. When I was sick, you did not come. When I was lonely, I remained alone in the forest, crying by the old oak next to the cemetary gates. And finally,
when they came to take me away, I saw you put your hand to your face and watch in horror....but you did not help me.

I should be grateful. They say death is a gift for those who live in hell on earth. Maybe this time, when they come for me, there will be death that awaits and not more torture.

I look down at my torn wrists and wish that the stone had been sharper and the earth had been colder. Maybe if death had taken me sooner, I would not feel the hate in my heart, I would not
feel the love in my heart and I would not sit by the wall and try to convince you to take my salvation. But I do this because I have no hope but the hope to save you.

They are coming now. I hear their hard heels hitting the stones and their breath against the cold air. I hear the lock turning and their advancement. I hear them coming for me.

"Hey, stay away from the north wall. They will be here soon, be ready to flee."
.....................
She was there beside me, on the rack. They had done to her what they would soon do to me. She turned with a bloody face and her lips quivered.

"I know what you are thinking." she mumbled. She spoke with all her strength because to her, it was important for me. She felt my inner turmoil which was more powerful than my will to live.

I spoke to her softly as to keep the others from hearing. "what do you mean?"

she smiled a grim and horrible smile. "The other one..the one in the cell beside you. He has forgotten who you are. You arent even a fleetig thought. He weeps and weeps...for himself."

The hurt was enormous but she knew it was all I needed to welcome the pain that was ahead. My will to live was gone. I nodded my head and watched the soldiers walk up to me with their
instruments of torture. I smiled.

The pain would be welcoming to the thing I had inside. The thing that had become nothing.

The condition (the dying process)

And then there was nothing. After I had chosen my words rashly, there was nothing left. I cried the night through without Stephen. It was as any other weekday night that I had endured without him...except this night, he was supposed to be here.  I imaged Stephen roaming some dark street somewhere with his cigar dwindling in his hand. His mind must have been a mess with things; things such as why the world was always at its own throat and why its self destruction was ignored by mindless pleasure seekers. I knew he thought about this because night after night, we thought it together. The words that I shouted at him were killing me now. I could not believe that I had commanded him to go away. In my own mind, I thought I had good reasons but it was driving me insane to be away from him. My love did not stop here...it had a section of its own, a part of my brain it inhabited and governed with no remorse for my logic. And my logic waged war as well...telling me that Stephen did not care at all and that I was just there for his entertainment. Maybe I was and maybe I had kid myself all along that he was different, that he stood out from the crowd. Maybe he was just like the others...just a different flavor.

So, I knew he could read my thoughts and that he had come to me before as simply as my thoughts wavered to him. Many times, he had stood outside my window smiling and motioning for me to let him inside. I would run to the door, swing wide tis opening and run outside to greet my lover. He was always warm whether it was summer or winter, rainging or snowing..he was comforting. I found myself feeling the most hollow pain in my chest as the hours passed by and he never came. Then I realized that he had taken my words as the gospel. I told him that I wanted him to go and so he did. When he did not come for me, I walked outside and up the ladder on the side of my little apartment. When I reached the roof, I sat down upon the ledge.

"Hey"

I turned to the voice that had become so familiar over the past months. It was such a voice that my body responded at the tone. I found comfort here and a strange home within his words. I could not explain why he comforted me so but it was something amazing and intriguing. "Stephen, you came."
The man came to stand beside me and then flicked his cigar out and into the street below. I could smell his cologne and it made me feel warm and soft inside....almost pliable. "I wasn't going to come but I could feel you tugging at my mind. I thought that you might seriously need me for something and so I came."

looking up, I motioned for him to join me. He accepted and plopped down upon the ledge right beside me. His hair was a mess and he just couldnt keep his hands out of the mess. I chuckled lightly at the sight of his unkempt head. "I like your hair."

"Ha ha, very funny...I just don't give a shit anymore, Cynthia"

I looked back down at the street and the lights of the city in the distance. "Stephen, I don't like fighting with you. I know you have your ideas and I have mine. Basically, I miss you and I don't want to go for so long without seeing your face. I don't want to see memories of you only....I want to see you before me and I want to reach out and touch you. Even if I can only briefly touch you for a moment, I want this to be sane."

Stephen's blue eyes met mine as we both looked at each other. I saw their depth and many things which hovered there that were unexplainable. I saw my reflection and it was sad. Nothing could tame the beast within Stephen nor coudl it tame the beast within myself. We seemed to be at a stand still and it done no good for my heart. I wanted to weep in his arms and have him to understand me.
"I do understand you, Cynthia. I am just not capable of giving you what you want. I have already lived this sort of life once before and I cannot repeat this poison thing. I am not saying that you are bad or you are not good enough. I am saying that this is just something that is not possible for me to grant to you."

I felt no comfort in his words at all. I felt the lonliness bubble up and sit their congealing in its own ugliness. "Stephen, I don't know what to say. Can we just be friends tonight as before...before it all got so complicated? If you cannot truly love me as your mate, then can you truly love me as....as...me?"

I think Stephen was as confused as I and he rose from his sitting position. He scrunched his face and then dropped it into his hand. "I have to go...I have to leave here."

"Why...what's wrong?"

Stephen looked at me and he looked frightened. "I cannot be a party to what you are thinking, it is ridiculous."

I knew he had seen the picture in my head and I was ashamed. But mostly, I was tired and just wanted to stop feeling.

"I am alone, Stephen. Everything I have done has been a failure. These are things that I never had the chance to tell you. I am strong and they call me angry. I am fun and they call me a whore. Whatever I try to be is what they use to label me incompetent or disgusting. I am so tired...so very fucking tired of it all. Yes, it is true that you take me with you but I want to go away forever and you leave me here alone. Sometimes, I just want to talk or I just want to be silly and free but then you do not come. Those times, I am left with my own devices and ....sometimes, only the ring of my doorbell or the knock at the door, keeps me from putting a gun to my head. I am serious, Stephen."

Stephen's eyes were desperately holding back his tears, they shimmered in the light of the street lamps. "I try to make you feel loved, Cynthia. But, I have a life of my own...my kid...my promises to him...I know you understand....and I am free..otherwise. I have enough responsibilities."

"I do..." I stood on the ledge and looked down at the parked car. I remembered things of the past and things of the present and my mind began to silently weigh living against dying.

Stephen grew angry. "You will not do things like that. I have heard so many things from others over and over again about how they are going to end it all. If you wanted to end your life, you wouldnt' have called to me. YOu would have just done the deed."

"Stephen..."

"yes, Cynthia"

" YOu are wrong...and.I am sorry" The gun was cool to my touch, it wasn't heavy and the trigger wasnt hard to pull... It was easier than my heartache.

Those were my last words and I heard his screaming. Then, in the waking world...the real world..I heard the loud bang and I remember the smell of the powder. And then..my soul was no longer in the waking world.

In one instant, my dreams came true. I didn't have to do that stuff anymore. I didnt have to wonder what was in store for me because I wasnt an issue. I thought wrong, he felt me. I was everywhere. I would swoop down in the air and rest just above Stephen. He would look right up into me and speak.

"Hello Cynthia."

His eyes would fill with tears and he would throw something...he would scream and tear paper from the walls. He is writing this too because he cannot see me. My thoughts roam around and he reads them. He sits and writes what I say to him because he says he wants to put it down so that he can touch the words...so that something of me is tangible. I am everywhere, all the time and forever. He reads the thoughts which flow through my mind. He writes the memories and other various things. He keeps part of me alive as he stuggles to maintain his sanity. This is what Stephen thinks because now, I can read his thoughts as well.

If I try hard enough, I can leave and go to some other far away place and give to him his space. I do this for him. But I return when he needs me.  I am free ...truly free...and when he calls to me...i am there.

A letter to the Wolf

1944
The Berghof
Eva Anna Braun

Dear one,
You will not like what I have to say. I know that even if I am correct, you would never admit to your weaknesses and defeat. I have heard so many rumors and they stiffle me. My heart is sick and I am so alone now.

I want to take the pills, all of them, because I have no hope left. You are always absent of me...playing with your war toys. There is no use calling to you, you shall come to me when you are ready. But I am lonely, rejection sits outside my doorway. OH,silly me, I know that you do not reject me but I have such a hollow space inside when you are gone. For when you are here, it is fleeting and filled with laughter of strange men. There are friends who come to dinner, bringing their ridiculous wives and girlfriends but there is little time for us to speak of the world....in intimacy. Do not misunderstand me, my love...I have my girls which keep me company, they play songs and read poetry to me nightly when they are here...but tis not the same and you know this. I cannot bear it much longer. Oh, how much longer do you have to wage this war...it goes on and on with no end in sight.

Something strange is happening. I know you do not tell me the things of your business..Oh, please forgive me. I know that you do not live as the great Furer, the wolf... when you are with me. I see soldiers...just outside the borders of the shrubbery and you pretend as though they are not even there. I saw the captain speaking to you just outside my bedroom and you pushed him away angrily. You will not come in to me either, You wait outside my chamber for moments then you just retire to the library again. Is there something wrong with me?  Things used to be different and you used to come to me. Now, we only entertain or we run off to the Obersalzberg for holiday. I love it there but it is always filled with your plans for Russia or your plans for Britain. I feel trapped in my obsession of my dark and handsome suitor. I know you know what,s best for me and so I wait.

I have been punished. Some strange men have come and taken things from my room and things from the Berghoff. I do not know these men and I do not understand. I did pray...I have been praying for so long now and wishing for a way out of this madness...this lonliness. My mood grows unstable again, my love. I am frightened.

I asked God for a way out of my entrapment, a remedy to my illness and he is just in his answer. I do not understand the severity of what he had in store for me but it was just. Of course I feel numb, lost at the moment and in the moment. Tomorrow will be harder, I am sure. Tomorrow there will be responsibilities to face. I will face them. I wonder how I will face them because they seem so daunting. The thing is, I wanted this...I must have. I was stubborn in the face of God and I knew not how to listen...nor I wouldn't listen. I guess that is more of an acurate statement. But I wanted everything...not just a portion, but all of it and God said no.

I felt invincible and I believe that the lesson learned by this is that I am no more invincible than each moment on the face of the clock. Time will pass and this too shall pass, I said. I know I have heard that before but not sure if it is a biblical statement or something from a song. I attribute statements and quotes to many things which have fallen on my ears from various mediums. But no matter where I have heard the sage words of wisdom; time and circumstance devours them all equally.
So I sit here...fighting sleep and wishing for that time machine again. It is the one that I always wish for when I have gone too far. It's that moment in time that I wish that I could redo. But it will never pass over me again in the same place nor at the same time. It is done. The loss of reason and importance weighs heavily upon me. My heart is heavy, my brain is tired..this only mirrored by my aging body. Now what? I ask myself...because I am lost. The thoughts invade my mind and they are many many thoughts which beg to be filed away properly.

And then I know... It is simple, actually. I move on. And it is in a cliche manner. It speaks to me as the rantings and ravings have done in the previous months and years. It is the same words but in different context. This time those thoughts prepare me to heal...in finality. It is like the awaited death of long suffering. It says...."one step at a time". Because, I am wounded...wounded. I cannot stop seeing your face as you had me sent away. I will not lie, it hurt like knives as you waved your hand at me and asked your little foot soldiers to escort me back to the Berghov. Perhaps, I will never understand your reasonings...doesn't matter, I still love you.
..........
But the wound is open, fresh and throbbing...and it will heal. Together with the servants of time and change. I am not sure of past events over the course of the last 4 days but I have my speculations. As I have said, I heard rumors from the staff. There is something deeper to this maybe, or is it my paranoia which keeps pushing me onward? I feel a great betrayal which has sprung from the inability and the fears of a coward. There are thoughts which keep telling me that I have loved an enemy, that I have lain great boughs of flowers around the neck of a murderer. Ah, so many lyrics from songs come to mind as my mind dwells more and more on the probable. I am in remembrance of a saying that I saw just days ago. It said: "I have given to you, the bullets to the gun which has killed me." And this would bring to mind the touches which have injected the poison which in turn would cause my death.

Oh, but do I simply fantasize about such nonesence or is it ...curiously true. The beast which is tantalizing...has it truly made the coward run for help? The beast which knew not that it was a beast to begin with?

Burned at stake, those who are innocent or simply have fallen mistakenly with only the intent to pursue what was right. The fallen....was not the devil himself once an angel? Was not the wounded and inflicted....then the abandoned in their wounds....werent the abandoned seen as the beast which caused their own demise? An opportunity, I say...to rid thyself of thy downfall...at the cost of another's suffering. Had you not looked within at the demon which raged beyond the rib cage, Had you not swept clean thy own soul....then the root would have been revealed. Tis not my weed that grew; it was thine own. My sun may have shined upon the tangled vines....my rain may have fallen upon thy poison flowers and my earth may have cradled thy roots in a bed of my own making....but my hands did not plant the thing which grew.

This too shall return to you and you will know....and you will reclaim an even darker torment..if what they say is true...if what my heart says is true. Not for the sake of my hatred, for I have none for you nor could I ever have, there is only love...but for the sake of the little ones who could not fight for justice.

My Furer... I love thee. And I will die with you as you would die with me. But what you reap...shall you sow. I have seen the truth and it is ugly... it is dark. My love, your power has engulfed you into waters so unknown and I watch you grow more entrapt in the shadows of your obsessions. I watch your face darken and you have changed. Who are you?

24 pills remaining
......
I will wait until your word and your return. Do not stay away for long or shall leave without you.

Your hidden love,

Eva Anna Braun

jewel

http://youtu.be/UNoouLa7uxA