veil | W. Axl Rose

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

winter of '90

In my restless dreams, I walked through a city of bricks and rubble, a city after war, and he was blind, his eyes vacant and dark as obsidian. There were tall apartments all around him, with triangles over windows, all bricked up and burning. Blind windows, and his blind eyes, and yet still he came toward me, surreal and insane.

Those heavy days, how heavy the low gray sky, my wings were so heavy, so heavy my panicked flight under the ground. Countless faces and countless lips, wanting me to tell, it made me tired, I fell asleep as they spoke, 'Just tell us what happened.' What could I tell? When I opened my mouth, a stone fell out.

I was petrified in my dreams, and I was petrified in reality because it was as if my dreams were reality and I was having a nervous breakdown and I had nowhere to turn. Nowhere. My mother, I sensed, has just given up on me, decided that she wasn't sure how she raised this, well, this thing, this rock-and-roll girl who has violated her body and mind, and though she loved me very much, she no longer wanted to be the one I ran to. My father who has never been my father. In fact, I haven't seen him in twenty-two years.

And then, there was him and those poor green eyeballs. Just where I hoped to find mercy. I kept his jacket against my face, his scent of tobacco and ash. I rubbed the black leather between my fingers. I dreamt of descent, of looming fade away and the end. Tears cascaded like torrents of rain, dreams veiled by a cry echoing from the abyss.