That countenance is beyond the limits of any of my descriptive capabilities. Let me whisper the most to you. The surprised barber and the utterly scared thrill that accompanied. The red scissors announced to him that hair was not a dead part of the body anymore. Bunches of the same when he had tried slashing, fountains of the red liquid had gushed out and it was his dress that received all the showers. Numerous streams of pain reached the brain via the many nerves and I sat still on the throne meant for ablutions.
While asleep, the dwellings of my dreams and the abodes for the lovely sights turned passionately red. Some anger obfuscated all vision that until now had helped me make sense of all that was ever available. A red darkness subsumed and consumed the vacuüm thus created. Energy that could not be usurped and employed to any use ushered and continued to spill off from a certain bucket where I used to store all my tolerance. Blood jammed nostrils and a gory larynx stained dry allowed no oxygen either way. Asphyxia and aphasia all in the same moment. Poor living being!
Entrances to the cave of taste and foul breath, as luscious and voluptuous as ever, wore a coat on the underside. The fluid running to them in full supplies. Added to the miracle was a layer sticking to them on the outside. The remains from the victim’s circulatory system they drank from a while ago and the red tears which had by now flown down via the apple cheeks mingled to release the unsurpassed homogeneity that only beauty could ever stand to vouch for.
The turgid pole teeming and bursting with the pressure simultaneously headquartered at all the junctions mentioned above was relentless. The redness of the shaft and the tension it gave birth to sent the arrangement in shivers. Frequencies of shudder, goosebumps, hysteria and exhilaration. No release anywhere was in sight. What seemed the only possibility was that I should be frozen forever in that plight. The skin had refused any friction and stood loyal to its master. No slippage anymore. ‘Shrivel away, freeze and die’ it said to me.
Before Midas was to appear, I ran for life. A life that I knew would again depend on the same redness. The multitasking fluid meant to ferry the red in all corners would again undertake unassigned responsibilities and would all over again turn the hair shafts into fountains, paint the barber’s dress, blind men, choke and not let them speak, drool over the dead, cause erected anxieties and last of all would refuse to leave the scene without a trace. Those footprints shall then haunt me all my life.
Can hear Midas in the vicinity. I choose mistakes and surrender once more. Hey blood! save me, help my limbs run as fast as they can. If possible, see if you can vanish from the grass. If caught and frozen in gold, you too shall be at a loss. Where, to whom and how shall you let your power be seen? Your kingdom when ossified shall kill you as well. You need to save me, I think and you should be now thinking about it!