Unworded Paradise of Lies

"There's such an incredible infinity of lights!"

My lips moved and words poured out, but my hand was still trembling on the frozen grass. I don't think this grass will ever thaw; it's already turned grey as it is, and grey grass doesn't seem like it would ever really be alive again.

The apparition beside me stirs, its open mouth breathing out unfelt thoughts. Since when do ghosts breathe? A silent photograph in my mind smiles, a forgotten thought slipping to and fro over the waves of memories. Music was always a nice way of putting things.

A cool finger touches my lips and a shudder runs through my veins. The apparition smiles detachedly, and I gaze through its eyes. There was never much emotion involved here. There was never much emotion needed. Why would you ever bring feeling... and everything that comes with feeling... into such a cold, beautifully empty space?

"There's such an incredible infinity of lights."

Stars are an astonishing sort of phenomenon. Sometimes I wonder how far the incredibly simplistic black-and-white could go. The tears stream down my face, but I scarcely notice their presence. Crying is just another one of those useless forms of seeking sympathy.

I haven't learned yet to stop using my voice. The ghosts around me never speak, no, they are too transparent and beautiful to mar themselves with sound. Sometimes, the weight of the silence is so strong that I say something, anything, whatever I am thinking... just to remind myself that I am still as sinful and disgusting as any other. For now, anyway.

They say words die when they are spoken! Dead, dead, dead like wasted emotion and crushed dreams. The apparition nods, very gently, to encourage me. I understand it now. At first I was frightened, but it showed me the endless, endless stars and the frozen grass, the blue blood that sailed in the streams in place of water, the angels that stood still like stone. Oh, stone, stone is beautiful.

"Such an incredible... incredible infinity... lights."

They say that if I sleep, it will all be better when I wake. It will all make sense. The air is unspeakably cold; I can almost see frost forming on the softly indistinct line of the wonderful apparition beside me. It's chest falls and lifts, an imitation, for since when do ghosts breathe?

A finger traces mine, but there is no feeling. Feeling is unnecessary. Hurt. Trust. Love. Unnecessary. It is better without.

I smile contentedly. Neither lies nor truth matter anymore. That is what the ghosts told me, their bodies against mine, removing the fire of fever and bringing blue blood in place of water, silence instead of words of empty comfort.

"Such... infinity..."

And I sleep.