The Iris and Grey Series

Voices and Colours

Oh Iris. In your eyes there are colours I am not capable of perceiving. Look, look. The sunlight splits into a rainbow down your spine. The wind howls, the blue skies are so empty in October and the hollow up there keeps eating me up. Oh Iris. My life is flooded with feelings I am unable to define. There's a machine in your chest, Iris. I hear it helps.

Gray. How do you do. I try looking you in the eye but you keep looking away, I wish there was voice in my throat instead of a rainbow. I wish I could explain more to you through spoken words. Ah, words. How well you play with your voice. The pauses. The volume variations. How you scream and whisper and come close and smile, and say your words. S.l.o.w.l.y.

Why do you keep looking at me this way? The room is filling with your light. Your colours are flooding the corners. Look Iris. The floor is the colour of your eyes. And the ceiling? Tell me. Tell me what colours these are.

Purple veins on your wrists, Gray. Do you feel the rivers run in them? If I cut open your skin what would I find?

I hear the machine in your chest beats like a drum. I hear there is blood in your flesh. And it is a beautiful colour. Is it in that rainbow? The colour of blood?

Louder than my heartbeat. My thoughts suppress me. Help me speak.

Heart. It may help me perceive colours.

Am I any louder than the old tree?

If I cut you open, will I find it?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH.

Lubb. Dubb. Lubb. Dubb.

GRAY. GRAY, CAN YOU HEAR ME? My voice is here! I can scream! Look at me, Gray! Listen to me! Speak!

Lubb. Dubb. Lubb. Dubb. Lubb. Dubb.