Kurenai means "crimson". I love crimson.

Red, the color of life, a very beautiful color. I love its essence, both of life and death, in one contrast. It is an intriguing color, blood red. It is life, it brings death.

I like red.

Whenever I take up the penknife, the little knife, to see the meaning which I try to find, to see the sheer beauty of life and death.

Malicious beauty.

Nothing can be compared with it, crimson.
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The crisscrosses. Resemble "X". X is my life, blood is my life. X's music sustains me, just as the blood comes with the numb pain does. Blood. To watch the delve in the skin, and let the crimson slowly dye my skin red.

I like that.

Then, the skin gets slowly transparent.

I am fascinated.

It begins to soak up, and I cut deeper and deeper. All in a moment, in slow motion.

I try not to get too deep so that it will heal faster, and I will find a nice clean spot to delve deeply into. Badly scarred skin do not look too good.

I swear, it saves me, my soul, each moment as it comes up, the crimson liquid, now a thin red line.
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They can also come in blots of red. Sometimes, I like to wipe it against something, preferably white, as if to leave a mark of what has happened. But... I do not know.

I like pain with a purpose. Pain that comes suddenly do not please me. I loathe sudden pains... Mental or physical.

He, who comes and go, he, the pink spider.

Unspoken words.

... ...
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Now, it is almost as if my soul is saved. I learn, and I live... Maybe, half intact. Maybe, no longer myself, maybe...

No more maybes, they are not rightful to be in my head.

The crimson saves my soul, as much as it saves my life.

If only...

A distant voice echoes.

"'X' is my life."
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Author's notes:

This is a write up individually, maybe it has to do with X Japan... I do not know. It is near me, but also near a celebrity (or so I'd like to think), the desert rose)... Whom I love... I do not know. But, it is about me, in a sense.

Tuesday, 10:15 p.m. (Singapore time) 27.10.95
xz0ne
voidmatsumoto@yahoo.co.uk