Laughter, a new religion. Laughter, a brilliant masterpiece. A melting point between two souls, a reach out for eternity. A dry consequence of idiocy and perhaps a sign of royalty. An intellectual king, laughing at the stock of words her queen is knitting. Soon enough, he’s going to acquire a new tongue to his already aggressive language. The king is his own Joker and the castle yard could not have been more empty of eyes. He likes to carve them out, since he’s in a desperate need of ornaments to redecorate his castle in the season of ghosts. When he looks up to the sky, he doesn’t see darkness. He sees himself times-two. He isn’t waiting for the end of the world, he’s waiting for the fall of his kingdom. When together with the leaves, the people who follow him turn yellow, while bathing in the river that is tainted of those who lost the ability to speak. The king calls himself Thanatos, as a reference to a cosmic joke he himself created:
The King and Thanatos, walk into a bar:
Thanatos: —Mine is the last face you will ever see!
The King: /Tell that to the people that had their eyes carved out by me. /You may be the Lord of Death, but don’t forget who does all the killing!
The king loves to draw with pencil-bones outside of his museum, while observing his meat collection under the frozen surface of the Danube. He loves the way the pieces float, while in the ambient the lives of those who hang by a wire enjoy the snowmen aligned at the castle entrance in order to scare away intruders. They wear the eyes of the slain. The sixteen year old majesty likes rainbows. That’s when he burns the bodies, so that he can enjoy the smell together with the view, as the snow melts at his presence.
As the snow makes way for the herbs, the rough smell of roses inside the king’s dormitory couldn’t be mistaken by anything, as the Ashlyn named ruler enjoys the way thorns tickle his feather-red body. The same couldn’t be said about the maid who didn’t live to see the summer. Perhaps in a world without mighty beings, some might even consider she was the first person to ever gamble. In her case, losing the bet was part of her universal tactic. She hates the heat.
As the Sun is giggling at the sight of burning people, our young majesty enjoys cleaning his artificial puddle of things that he deems unnecessary. In the same manner, he chooses to cleanse humanity by scorching out every bit of liquid a human body contains. At night, his puddle reflects with a crimson shade towards the moon, as the king enjoys the density of blood upon his skin.
He’s quite religious for a believer in the pagan traditions. He associates each form of killing to the sound of Vivaldi’s Seasons.
Autumn is a representation of education, irony and narcissism. The famous Austrian bipolar, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart has the best representation of narcissism through his famous piece called ”Allegro”. The rush of music, caught up with the rush of adrenaline in our yet young king. It seems it’s possible that his eagerness for knowledge caught up with his eagerness for murder, as well.
The cold Winter makes our majesty’s hands warm. His comedy and theatrical aptitudes are somewhat authoritarian. He has a sense of a delicate murderous scene destined for the children of his kingdom to watch, alongside the ”Blue Danube” flowing down the air. Mister Strauss would be a proud man, unless he’s going to meet any of the Waltzing souls sent by the King himself.
He’s an admirer of nature in Spring. With the frisky winter, his simple, yet rich visions on death changed as well. He turns into a romantic lover and takes the role of a Thanatos sung by the exquisite Beethoven, deaf at the screech of those killed by the kindness of a rose. The idea behind it? Beauty is the harshest killer of all.
The heat of the Summer is the final act of a boy transitioning into a man. The sexual desires appear through Tippett’s symphony that forges a delicate ”psychopath marriage” between the majesty and his inability to feel pain. His strongest desire? Make others feel the pain he cannot comprehend would exist.
Sinfonia da Requiem – III. Requiem aeternam