“Remember when I went to prick your eye with a hair pin and you started crying and I said to shut your socket or those tasty tears will soon crimson into droplets of blood as I scoop those baby blues out of your skull? Remember that?
“I must have gotten a dust particle in my eye today. The robots that scanned my pupils did not see innocence, only the burgundy coating of a dust particle hellbent on dilation. I blinked fervently and when one robot inquired as to if I was making a pass at it’s lubricated tube, I winked and said, “Not unless you scan it to be,” at which point the robot took it’s handclamp and systematically pried my eye open under the bright florescent light before scanning it with laser beams as red as the scarlet liquid which had tendency to congeal around your rosy cheeks under the smooth, pale skin. The robot said, “No, Human. Indeed I do not scan it so,” then dropped the clanking gruel cup of mushed memories forever frozen at my feet…and rolled away.
“I want you to know I would have never popped your sight balloons. I would not have been able to handle the air that escaped those peepers, but I would have inhaled, breathed it in. I will not deny that.
“I was quite satisfied with the way you looked for the most part, and I would not wish to gaze upon a melted vanilla scoop with strawberry syrup drizzling down your creamy complexion. Back then, Beauty was ice cream.
“But Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder, and today, Beauty is a dust particle. Lashes to ashes…lust to dust…”
TRT: 4 min 20 sec