Friday, April 2, 2010

Hard Pressed Colors

He slumped into the water a couple of inches and let his lids fall shut. He felt the heat of the water suffuse his legs and the water itself cool in response. He drew his hands up and onto his closed eyes and enjoyed the sensation of wet heat on his cheeks and checked vision. He pressed, and the day began to lose credibility. He pressed, and blues, reds, and yellows exploded like Dr. Seuss dandelions before a dark tan backdrop. It was small, but it was his. He pressed so the heat would crawl from the legs up to his head and into his brain, warming all thoughts moving forward. He pressed until he was sure he controlled the the sound of colors all over the world, save for the shade of sorrow he knew to be but one room over.

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