Storystyling : Cityface (three / 8)

Aporias -- by Virtue of Photonizing

I woke up to the sound of pearls being spilled into a silver chalice. I opened my eyes and all I could hear was the rain spiking the invisible layer above the surface of the gutter. Protecting the house.

There are a lot of rooms in the house : houses of memory, houses of that what spreads.

One room tells a story of the palm lined road enveloped in the breath of dusk. It meanders through the colors of a summer day leaking into an amber embrace and a tar kiss of the night. Like an estuary vomited through the mouth of the city, it sucks the fuzz of fume buzz, fuel combustion, and a dazzling flash of traffic lights reflecting the snaking gleam out of the knot of crossroads, tangential alleys, avenues, and the concrete alligators of their ilk.

Carried in the whisper of the evening by the sea shadowed by a whiff of a crispy summer morning, a touch of salty air meets the resonating wavelength whose frequency is measured in the units of milk chocolate, white chocolate, and cinnamon.

orangepurple trajectory.

--like phunk.

***

i am vegan. i used to conjure up a piece of a panapocalyptic scenario for each & every situation imaginable to the mind of the three looking one. now i don’t.

i am vegan. i reside in the shadow of the night. my dreams are tar kisses, my fantasy amber oceans. my everyday  is soaked with the vision of the world purged of the pollutants such as smoke veil swerving around a coffee mug, shyly licking the rim of the steaming container, merging with the flavor so abundant in a gentle, pale echo of the tropics that it can only be sustained in that hybrid form. my everyday is bathed in the vision of the world cleansed from the particulates such as an easy flow upholstering the communication channel with an air of a plush layer fragile in its texture, soothing in its softness -- vulnerable in its softness, robust in its gentleness. my everyday is sunshowered.

i used to conjure up a piece of panapocalyptic scenario for each & every situation imaginable to the mind of the three looking one. now i don’t. i am vegan. my vision is enriched with fancy-sustained oneirscape : those cosmos of desire are nothing but the vision fueling my everyday, invigorating the vibrancy of the world anchored in digitized disinfectants. i am vegan now.

i dwell in the shadow of the night. my mornings are crispy memories of a sticky smell of dusk. my dusks quirky laziness of mischievous colors. i dwell in the embrace of the ink blue mane wildly billowing through nocturnal tunnels. i am vegan now.

my world is relieved of the burden of organic antioxidants. the tyranny of antidotes is the territory alien to it. my world knows no need for such stuff. my world is a postapocalyptic phantasmagoria, a lullaby spreading across the void amidst the antibabylonian empire. it is the world whose past is present, and the future unfathomable. It’s a dystopian world.

i am vegan now : my vision is my world;  my dreams are my universe; my petrol – delight.

--like phunk.

***

--like phunk?

--like phunk!

i am a criminal. because i am vegan. not all vegans are criminals. but i am. in a dystopian world, there is no crime. but there are criminals. in a dystopian world, there is no crime because everything is legal.

i am a criminal. because in a dystopian world, past is the present. only organic vegans count. i don’t. i used to be a pixel eater. devourer of milky static bubbling over the rims of liquid crystal screens. my viscera were optical fiber cables fuzzing with currents of 1s & 0s. my eyes zoning volcano craters cushioned with bags of stone slopes heavily hanging underneath thin foggy veil weaving a cobweb around my eyelashes, my eyebrows. stalactites of smoke. eyelids like gates to the fortress of phantasmagoria, to the shadow of the night.

i used to be an eater of pixel petals. but, i am not now. now, i am vegan. my smile was a driveway through thick darkness, through forestry constellations kissed by a digitized spark spreading in long wavelengths across arborieal empire. my desires were a universe of endless echoes bouncing between proliferated mirror images of its immeasurable void. my desires were my world, my world an eater of a fantasy of digitized amber, of grey rain. It used to rain grey rain.

in a dystopian world, there is no crime. but, there are criminals. i am one of them. because i am vegan. i used to dream of grey windy tears pouring into an invisible flute streams of cloud’s whisper. thin glass awashed in salty kisses. my mornings were memories of pearl showers. now,  my everyday is a fading image of it, the sound of it. my everyday is sunshowred. so is the rain.

i am vegan now. i used to be an etherized nectar eater. my fantasy was upholstered with an indigo carpet. i used to fantasize panapocalyptic fantasies. now i don’t. my dusk was lava’s nocturnal kiss. my everyday a pearl flow. sunshowered. so is the rain. all being palephotonized now.

Verily.