The Madman - Drops of Blue Lava

Hello all,

Welcome to another season of the Madman. Today, our journey begins with grey disc-like objects till legs of stone make the disappearance of known objects possible. After removal of said objects, a mandatory tour of the greenish-purple white streets leads to nirvana. Rotating red roses remind me of the Iris, with it's purple-yellow loveliness, and of all that withered away with it. The blue moon is all I have left. That and a little bit of the stationary surrealism.

Voices call from the digital TV wall, rampaging through those selfsame rotating roses (yes, the very ones we heard from a moment ago). As night falls, the red turns to a gradual black, before the difference in color never existed. Fog, ice and iris (repeating themes is not my style!), all gone. But she was here a moment ago! Perhaps thrown to the trash in a bottle of water, as a memory of losing one's reflection.

Several points of a star all lead to infinity. As the infinity of the galaxy streams past, and the stars, all looked upon as being far away for far too long, are like little white specks of salt, the scientist tries to work around the number of commas in this sentence. He then flees back to the beginning of time and wishes to recreate it all. With a few, small, differences of course. As his attempts to return get progressively more petulant, his anger rises and he storms away, alone. Not the best combination, mind.

The painted green landscape of the still (really?) seas of the mind is obviously fake. Reality lies in a far deeper section, the one where drops of molten redness coalesce to form the core. The discoverer races down in a small ship of a single stalactite, but he must first get past the jagged blue spikes. As he successfully races away after sampling real loveliness, he cannot help but look back and wish things were otherwise. He tries to flit back, but the spikes are now closed to him once and for all. Perhaps, if the core were to show herself..

Cold and grey steel lurks on my bedspread, the kind spirits and mortals alike fear (burns one, cuts/bludgeons/slashes/smashes other). As the remorseless winds flow over the still, black waters of her, my look loses its once-fabled power. The Turn, which has occurred for possibly the last time, destroys and relieves at the same time. Yet a deeper fear is the return of the Gaze.. beauty and terror in one small package.

I do not like this imagery, and shall desist from writing more. I would bother mentioning that there are references in this one too, but with how interested You were in the first set, there seems to be a lack of point in doing so.

I love you too. Always.

PS: Around the bend, but make sure it's still a turn You can take.