The air Before

The past was rose glass entire. Plates and plates of pink perfection: each memory a polished gem with facets winking, sharp stone clinking at the bottom of Dahlia’s jewelrybox mind. Her childhood had not been particularly paragonic, but viewed through the dark Now it slid to spotless daydream. Endless licks of cookie dough ice cream and the freedom of breathing and such. An equation spiraled amaranthinely before her eyes, cutting the haze as only crystal could – masklessness equals bliss. ‘Reminisce’ had lost its new car smell long ago. Still, Dahlia went back, back…since all she smelled otherwise was internal effluvia, as if she’d swallowed herself and been forced to nest against her own organ walls. The state-issued headsuit provided innumerable permutations of claustrophobia, but a finite number of odors. So instead, she’d close her eyes, hold her breath, and fall onto the flat, glassy excellence of the sparkling Before. There, she would skate and skate and skate. The air was sapphire-lucent, and her blades left no marks across the sheet of ground.

~ by kingzoko on August 4, 2014.

One Response to “The air Before”

  1. This creates beautiful pictures.

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