Sangue Sensazione

I do not remember when it happened. I awoke one day to find my human existence to have lost its flavor. My world had become jaded and dull. I lost my Muse. Life was stagnant and bland. The colours that I had once so enjoyed seemed washed out, pale. I suffered, my art suffered. There was little that brought me joy as I traveled the world, taking in the sights looking for new experiences. Seeking something, anything that would bring back that spark of life and let me pour that essence into my art, a moment forever frozen.

I visited France, The la fée verte did not inspire me, nor the fines foods or wine. I was surrounded by art on all sides and I could create nothing, I had no passion, no desire left in me. I began to feel like the waking dead, just going through a parody of life until I ceased to be. I wanted to rage, to scream at it all.


When drink could not move me I tried other paths, other intoxicants. I went to the Orient in search of Opium. The smoke of the poppy dulled the pain of living, often a good choice to force myself to sleep. Although I wish it could say it brought on my dreaming as it had for others. That would have been something, instead I just slipped away to darkness.

I went to India in hopes of enlightenment, but their ways were not for me. I felt not the touch of the Divine, or inspiration of my Muse. According to The Vedas, cannabis was one of five sacred plants. The Vedas call cannabis a source of happiness, joy-giver, liberator that was compassionately given to humans to help us attain delight and lose fear. That was something. If anything could help wake my soul I thought the cannabis to be it. I am sorry that it wasn't the case. I did find that it helped take some of the dull pain of living as well as helped me to reign in my temper.

Egypt was my next port of call and I had found texts that mentioned the sacred mushroom,the red and white amanita. The food of the gods. It took some time and enough coin thrown about in donation, that I did finally receive an invitation to participate in the ritual. I wanted to prepare myself for this the plant of life, ankh khut. I fasted for two days before my ritual. I wanted to seek out the Divine and instead was met by hallucinations and forced to examine all aspects of myself and my soul. What I saw left me desolate, and I feared my mind would shatter. I saw nothing more than my own darkness. There was nothing Divine or scared in my life. All I had was this life, and no other. This went against everything I had hoped for and at my core was everything I feared.

I returned to Milan, spent and broken in my personal madness. In my rage I destroyed years of my art. Watching from a personal remove as I set masks was ablaze. If I could not create, I would not be reminded of what I had lost. I watched the flames burn, in my madness I heard a whisper on the wind, one word. Venexia. In hearing that name my soul stilled and began to drift towards it.

I arrived on a foggy morning and quickly took up a small residence. The City was silent during the day and at night it blazed with life, activity. I came across creatures that seemed to be more dead than I and yet they rippled with life. It was soon became clear what was expected of the humans in the city of lights.

Nothing to live for and nothing to lose I was up for the game. Imagine my shock at my first feeding when I could feel the life ebbing from my body. To try and put the sensation to words would be near impossible if you have not experienced it for yourself. The vitae, my essence left my body and brought me heartbeats away from death. I had never felt more alive. The closer I stepped towards death the more I wanted to live. The high I received from feeding enhanced my state of inebriation. I regained my Muse and my lust for life in this dark city. It may well be the death of me, but what a magnificent death to be had. I serve the Court, and do so willingly, like the addict I am. For me it is not Memento mori, to remember death but instead Memento vivere, remember life.