Para-Prose

I just want to sleep for an eternity, wake up for a heartbeat to stuff myself silly with my favourite foods; creamy chicken fusillis, sashimi, Hawaiian pizzas, xiao long baos, chocolates, waffle ice creams, rostis, overly-sugared ice cream crepes, mango puddings, shark's fin soup, bee, bee's cooking, meatballs, smoked salmon, poached salmon, daddy's spaghetti, grandma's chicken stew, grandma's cooking in general, the list goes on, then I'd devour again my favourite books; too many to list, before I fall back into bed, warm and safe from the harsh reality that is this world, snuggled up with my blanket without the cares and responsibilities I have, Kirby and Fat Head nestled beside my pillow, while I inhale the familiar comforting scents that lull me back into a deep, restful sleep, with dreams of pink fluffy bunnies, cotton candy, hamsters and the like, to accompany me while I drift away and hope to never come back.

I need to breathe.

--

And very breath taken births a hollow sensation at the back of my throat like smoke from a strawberry cigarette gradually tightening its asphyxiating hold on me as I stand beside myself watching a wildflower blackening and its petals curling on itself as it is coaxed and seduced into submission for the consumption of the unforgiving flame that is the beacon of the future that would never come to be as it burns and dies a lonely death only to be brought back again in a heartbeat to conform and bend and twist to the will of the scorching sun but the wounds engraved in its core will never fade.