foxinsnow's Diaryland Diary
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Peeled
Eating, she thought, "the whining." It lay under the crates, and betwixt her teeth and piano keys. She heard, but that... was a separate entity. Between the folds of brain, slowly coerced. The slow humming, pressured or cold. Sometimes laughter or sea sails. Made of glass. People liked to think it was fragile-- well, maybe it could be-- but it could also be sturdy, and besides it was more than that: well-lit. Everything frozen, or so she was told. It was sustained in discussion, and relative knowledge. It melted when she was alone. It would all ripple before her, suddenly water. Then she would think, "The night twines around, and glows in the windows. It has always been there, behind things. It forms into hands. Humming, and glass-rubbing. that's how I realized the glass was there in the first place. The hands peel my skin, but it doesn't hurt-- it is just walls being torn down." The fleeting mirages of smothered blood rippled around her. Smothered by the film of residual encasement, which would soon be gone too. The last shards of glass dissolved, and the whining swirled and consumed her. her body foamed and peeled away. The noise became her skin and eyes.
-1994
12:44 a.m. - 2003-10-31
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