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Diamond was the sun that day as it pierced through the drawn curtains, fingers held up helplessly from the bed which cannot be exited yet, arms limp gelato. What were the thoughts once cobbled together that formed the film, a composite of vital and ephemeral vignettes that coalesced into dreams, yes, that's what they must've been, parlaying like a camera obscura that scrapes the back of an old and broken brain.
A machine whirs away in the background, it's subtle and mechanical pulse acting as a replacement for whatever pulse there had been. A picture on the wall ahead, of what? It's far too much to sort through right now under the fragrant funnel of filings that spilled out of their respective cabinets and scattered all apart upon the floor of the cerebellum.
The arm falls limp, slumping back down atop the lumps of leg below, the sun again cutting into view, piercing an unforgiving light all over, as if in judgment, scanning. A nurse, it must be, comes in as if on queue to shut the shade, check the chart, clip one bag of silvery substance and replace it with another, then promptly leave.
Back into the chrysalis, the placental hearth of an acceptance of inner dissonance begins to ebb over, every vein standing at attention, each capillary finding its own reason for revolt, and it is here that the other arm begins to itch, an unsightly disturbance just above the wrist.
A wristband. From the Above and Beyond show on October 29th - Halloween.
Ecstasy had been shoved into a budding, young, and waiting asshole by the gob. Eyes blinked in, then out. Several hours later.
The Air For Life.
We are breathing.
The Air For Life.
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