Storystyling : sunshowered (2 / 6)

moonoily reflection

Midnight chimes through the cobweb of an oneiric empire. Numberless lids covering amnesiac dreams, hooting along rusty labyrinth of sewers, open. Slimy, torn optical fiber cables fastened, like drained muscles—afflicted connective tissue—etherize mucous lava and let the heavily withdrawn vessels resurface. Eyes of dissolved liquid crystal screens absorb the ink saturating the midnight air.

The city opens up for an intake of pixilated nutrients. All the long hours till dawn it has to digest them. Stirring the enchantment. All the long hours to pour the processed ink concoction into the grumpy corridors waning with drought. Stir the enchantment. Withering yarns in an invisible tapestry shyly mingle. Like reawakening of the half-forgotten smile, they pump into the web gentle warmth, meekly emanating from the fading thickness of an ink ruler, as miniscule formations of pale photon rescuers invigorate the empire with newly generated energies. All being pale-photonized now.

--art thou claiming that from thine rentspa u educated thyself not to mature prematurelee?

--The childlike equals not the childish.

--does moi bien self then utter a sentence of interrogation making one think that the claim in question might be of an affirmative nature were thou to contend that it be premised by receiving from one’s grandparents an edifying piece of info abt how to familiarize & rentpa, ha?

--Grandparents were once parents, as well.

--may one then assume that the reason why certain messages find no recipient is that in order for the communicational content to be delivered, it needs to be of the nature that excludes erroneous semantics?

I used to find it immeasurably delightful to observe the sparkling forestry in the eye of the interlocutor whose stories were to my tired ear the sunshowered river.

/

--do thou sometimes oneire abt the table lavishly spread across the dining room of the castle ye supreme?

--ha/a. hows abt thou?

--moi bien selfissimo est immersed in the oneire architectonique on a permanent bassis, so to speak.

--sounds superbly bubblesque to me. when thou oneire, do thou remember hwass thou once imagined thine dream is, ha?

--ha / a. how YES *** NO. ich reminisce all cords, each and every cable, every single pixel on  mafotherphunkie splashing ocean of etherized crumbs of the crumbling digitized ima-ge-ry.

--hey! but, do thou not recollect that all the staticky milkishness is what plates used to be?

--no, thou do. not only do me good self recall the plates, but also delicately decorated glasses, elegant cutlery, bowls as generously opened as the universe absorbing the molten liquid crystal dripping around galaxies in search of the source to silence its dissolvement.

--me likes thine sense of memory. as for this exemplary oneirer, me could say that no thing can be more desirable to the imaginary apparatus than what on plates was before it was swept by  the harshest of pixelations possibilesque.

--say no word revealing the opulence of brutally delicious treat for the sense of taste.

-- / .

--likewise, say no mafotherphunkie word disclosing the fact that before turning into shapeless smudginess of senseless buzz of disconnected electric circuits, hysterical illcommunication between ones & zeros, and indifferent leakage from torn optical fibers, the cornucopia of flavors was welcomed in the manner digitalized imagery is not capable of.

-- / .

--me thinks me likes the way thou speak.

--likewise.

--yo / ma / guy.

The night was sprinkled with the shadow of fog. Cold wind was combing ink mane wildly waving through the hollowness of disconnected conversation between boulevards and the overlooking facades.  Occasional whiffs of blizzardry caprice would stir morose rattling of trash cans, hesitant screeching of rusty hinges, hooting communicational tunnel. Bites of half-forgotten autumnal air would intermittently disrupt a sleet curtain—a deviant version of snow.  This seasonal unruliness spikes dispersing jets of muted photonization with strangely aloof freshness : a melancholic smile of a melody floating on pixilated moisture, galaxies bathing in sparkling forestry. sunshowered.

Hostile traces of the wind’s untamed curves sweep the sidewalk splashing indifferent titillations onto bland, dimlit shop windows. Foggy smears across reverberating cold. A reflection of amber ruby leaves in the sparseness of dry flora. Branches’ whisper drifting through the unresponsiveness of the wind. Space distant even to itself. All being pale-photonized now. A dream of snow carried on the wings of the air. This paradoxical imagery imbues the encompassing vacuumness with a strangely soothing collision : an echo of the river kissed by dripping thickness of a nectarized summer night. sunshowered.