Yellow

The choir loses voice, can't remember what it's supposed to feel like, it should be paradise, singing by a tv frame, understanding that migraines come and go, paperwhite candles on a temp middlechar tablewood, slowly slight, of their persuasion, languidly pursuing the vowels, the nightly battery charge prick in bottle pills.

Marie, 22 and stained like cherry wine pours from a cylinder, ones having rectangular mobius strips in perfect accordance to the reigning conduct, flesh white milk, her smile not shimmering once. This is perfect too, now that the yellow light starts to bite indefinitely. The guests recoil in silence.

MARIE

(A soft mania, squirm with speech as she taps around with the flesh milk)

I knew it would be such a shock to maman but this is what we do. It's not new. 

JACOB

(Breaking the silence softly, blend into virile shades of yellow)

Marie, the intolerance I believe is an utmost gift to the art

GABRIEL

(He is so useless)

Besides, it does fit the logos

Pauses

Do you understand Marie?

MARIE

Yes

JACOB

Good

The taste of chew in the sewing, pull yourself together darling and make way lots of way, yellow flesh milk,  when your tiptoes close in with shallow reindeer smiles.

JACOB

I need you to prepare very carefully, think about your parents, the pain you will chain, the pain, the masoch, that's everything.

MARIE

(Softly as she goes on, the flesh milk to EVERYONE, they are here to drink after all, now their faces are twice and twice, NOW, the temperate chide of the curtain door)

I know

JACOB

Think about the very bliss , the yellow charm of the gases and the elements, AS, you gnaw your pain into the pundits of these very constructs, step on them and break them away

Now an agon of pitch sims in, no one needs half fruit eyes to know this, a centripetal darkness urges in, but surely the midwatch is awake, pourings of flesh milk are still crotchet like all the paradises that slumber in the bamboo trails, remembering finally that the denims of the very scene is precise, not swaying, and indifferent to tune

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PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER