is a low-budget film made for the web.

SYNOPSIS- A poetic romp through the dark recesses of the subconscious. Vivian wanders though a fog of dreams and a disheartening existence, struggling to find a way back to reality and out of the grip of a totalitarian world.

This experimental short film was originally created for the

ABC’s of Death 2 Contest.

*Watch the film below!

Memory Mausoleum is an experimentation of horror, fantasy, poetry and the subconscious. An amalgam of fear, conspiracy theories and shadowed hope, it is set in a society in which freedom no longer exists. The following is the poem that I wrote which inspired the film:

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 My memory is a mausoleum. A fathomless pit on the edge of a starless universe.  There is no lifeblood left in me. Only broken shards, bruised landscapes, frail fragments of the mind.

 Yet still I hear it. Beckoning through the black-browed night. A sigh from the obsidian grave. The phantom of my former self nudging me through the rolling fog after a trail of red velvet crumbs.

 And where will they lead me to, these wily crumbs? To caves of barbarians who under the guise of societal peace, attempt to fit us with gilded puppet strings.

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 Are they not mere mortals themselves, made from dust and born of woman? These lusty lords who presume to hold dominion over us with their courtrooms, their levies, their institutions. Crowned heads of the black mass war machine spinning like Rumpelstiltskin on a sweaty wheel dripping with holocaust.   

 Who decides where the neck becomes the head, where the heart connects to the lungs, how the neurons ruminate? God? Or have we left it to madmen? Doctors with drugs, politicians with rhetoric, lawyers with corruptible justice, the hegemony with mind control. For devil’s delight in breeding Babylonian babes with eyes that cannot see and ears that never hear. Who suckle at the shriveled teets of security and comfort never tasting the milk has curdled in their mouths. Propagated for the perfect lobotomy to make them all fresh and empty new creatures.

 And so I sleepwalk now as moons pass, for all I have left are my dreams. Veiled visions that float like clouds on dewy water banks. But in them I have rediscovered the power to choose. To decide between the stairways of heaven or hell. Between right and wrong, between life and death. I have regained, my God given birth right of free will on earth.

 And if you look close enough, you will understand the resurrection. How I found the breech in the labyrinth. For she hides in the marshes. Her whip of crickets bone lashing my clotted synapses. The faries’ midwife, that crafty Queen Mab. Bringer of dreams.

 So let them carve up my brain, for my blood will keep it bubbling hot, like a tumor under a grisly spell, born of such dark possession even lunatic witches retch to retract their ungodly vows. For in dreams there is no such thing as silence, no such thing as subjugation.

 My brain is not a charnel house, my brain is not a sepulcher, my brain is not a crypt, my brain is not a tomb. My memory is not a mausoleum. I am awake and I am coming for the murders of soul, the dark devils of demoralization, the destroyers of human destiny. I am awake: I am awake, I am awake, I am awake, I am awake.

Directors Cut