MP: This has been in my mind for some time now, nearly every time I hear the song (which is quite often) in fact. So since I'm bored tonight and my computer won't save documents I just thought I'd type up a quickie for you.

Cee: When you really should be working on Flesh Failures bitch!

MP: But more on that later! Disclaim me!

Cee: MissPessimist does not own one piece. Lyrics are Walking in Space from the musical "Hair!".

MP: Blurb starts now.

XXX

Doors locked.

There was the sky.

Blinds pulled.

There was the sky that looked as though it was growing steadily and surely darker, flooding itself in evening.

Lights low.

The orange, pink, lightening lavender of the darkening evening sky was drowning itself, getting dark faster than it should be. What happened? Had there been anything before the sky? Was there anything but he and the sky even now?

Flames high.

Oh but there must have been, because of the pain. If there had been nothing but the sky, the pain would not have been gently throbbing in his chest and his legs. Or numbing now, as it was slowly begging to slip out of his veins; much like the blood he could now only slightly feel coating his hands and part of his face.

My body.

He could feel the ground beneath him, grass spreading the tresses of his hair, letting itself become stained in the life's blood that it probably flourished in. There were rocks on this ground he could feel them under his now overly sensitive back, which had lost feeling for a time. He supposed that might have been one of his injuries, but he couldn't say he cared anymore.

My body.

How had he gotten there? Who did this to him, or what? There was nothing in his memory but the sky, darkening and opening and closing and just flexing…

My body.

It was as though he had never had a past, a present, and the thought of future seemed to never have existed. All there was was the sky, spreading all around him, becoming drenched in its own water colored canvas, forever stretching upward. It was all that mattered now.

My body.

Had it always been like this? Had he truly never noticed the true beauty of the sky before? Of course he hadn't, he had been hiding much of the time. Behind walls and books and brains and swords and his own emotions…

My body.

The time wasted rushed forward at him, wrapping black wings around his prone form, seeming to want him to invite him in. No that was just the dark spots now beginning to appear before his eyes, which seemed, in itself, much scarier. There was no monster but the one that hides in the corner from the moment you're born to the moment it emerges from the shadows.

My body.

The sky was dark, and splotched over with indigo and streaked here and there with dark purple. The world was becoming all shadows and shapes, and he supposed that was the purpose of it. To make the world beyond this one look better, one must make the current place look much worse. He began to wonder if this was even the sky at all, or if he had just lapsed away, and what he was seeing now was simply the backs of his eyelids, forever destined to be shut.

My body is walking in space.

His eyes, his eyes. He could no longer remember how they worked, or how to open and close them, and had he always been this cold? Had the world always been this black? Where was the feeling in his body? When had he begun to go numb? There was nothing to remember, not the sky, not anything. No one to remember or love, nothing was left but him here. Lost in the dark.

My soul is in orbit,

But wait, there was something now. Strange feelings in what he thought were the soles of his feet, almost anchoring him down to the air that surrounded him. Where had the ground gone? And inside, a shift; a strange pulse in his body as something changed around him. The air was now warmer, and he sensed there was light behind his closed eyes. He wanted to open them.

With God face to face.

He hadn't sent out a command to his senses, but his eyes opened of their own volition, and they saw as though they had never seen before. There were stars, millions and millions of them suspended before him, seeming to shine only for him. And there was something else…a feeling in his head now, of blood rushing to it. Was he upside down?

Floating, flipping, flying, tripping.

This sensation was beyond anything he had ever experienced. Viewing life upside down…but what could be below?

Tripping from Pottsville to Mainline.

Below him was a mass of black, it looked like water but in the dark he could have been wrong. His feet rested atop it like it was solid ground, interrupted by the strange shifting current of the water holding him up. The night had not always been this way, of this he was sure.

Tripping from Mainline to Moonville.

Tentatively, he stretched a foot out, though his mind had still not sent any signals to that appendage. Softly, his foot landed in the solid water with a numb sensation spreading under his feet, Novocain-like and sharp. Ripples spread out gracefully from the spot he had stepped on, but the upside down water still held firm. He looked back up at the glistening sky, sparkling and reaching out to him like a lost child that had finally returned home after a full day of pretending to run away.

On a rocket to the Fourth Dimension, total self awareness, the intention…

And so he walked. Every angle and every curve of the night fascinated his eyes, which seemed to have been washed and created anew. He had never seen the night until now, if this even was the night at all and not some illusion his mind was using to distract him from the act of his dying. Although, he thought, if this was in fact dying, it was not so bad.

My mind is as clear as country air,

He felt somehow odd, that he had not thought of anything miraculous or had a staggering epiphany in his final moments. But how could he use words to describe something like this? There were none, none that could express the sight and the feel of this moment of being suspended in a strange place between the actual art of dying and the ritual of living.

I feel my flesh, all colors mesh.

But even then, the feeling was changing; spreading up his feet and his legs and then to his torso, all becoming totally numb. The dark water had submerged him as he had looked at the stars, and suddenly, as the water distorted his vision, in their place were faces.

Red black,

Red hair, tattoos, a large self-confident grin nearly jumping out at his over-aware senses, stirring up a feeling in his chest that made him want to reach out.

Blue brown,

Dark hair, permanantly trapped in a bun that was both sweet and studious. Eyes, large dark eyes that wanted to swallow him up in their sadness and their immense feeling of loss. He felt it somehow, deep in his chest, deeper than his other feelings, and it connected into something that was resting in him.

Yellow crimson,

Long auburn hair cascaded into his memory, it looked soft. He had the feeling that he'd thought that before, and more eyes. This time they were blue, and held the same sadness as the ones he'd seen before, but there was strength too. A strength that the other eyes had not had.

Green orange,

Scars. Three scars that ran down the right side of an otherwise handsome face, which was still somewhat cold in its sharp edges and black angles. This face made him begin to try and control his body again, if only to just reach out a hand.

Purple pink,

This image was hazy and distorted, out of place among the others. The others he could see clearly, but this one he viewed as though at the end of a long tunnel. He saw blonde hair, gently curling and splitting at its ends, falling into what he could make out to be a beautiful face with dark eyes.

Violet white,

Another face, the same as the previous one; hazy but somehow distinct. A more masculine version of its counterpart, dirty blonde hair falling unkempt into a tan face with large hazel eyes, and he felt oddly at peace with this face.

White white,

Pale skin suddenly sprung from the dark waters to take its place among the faces. A long leering grin faced him now, unsettling but familiar in its cruel turn and mocking nature. He felt glad that he could not see this face's eyes; for he was sure what he would see would terrify him.

White white,

Another form began to emerge. This one he seemed to see the most clearly, defining the pale movement of skin and the shake of a light blonde head. A body developed; slouching in an undignified, sorry sort of way that made him want to reach up and turn this face's head up. Impulse flooded his veins, letting him finally back in control of his body, and his hand gently turned a face up to meet his. Dark blue eyes stared tonelessly back at him, small flecks of green peppered around the edges and near his irises. And something clicked.

White white.

Izuru.

All the clouds are cumuloft, Walking in Space.

He, he was Izuru. He was pale skin and blonde hair and blue eyes and bad posture, he was Izuru. Slowly, hand became hands and began to feel as he ran them into his hair and over his face, tracing every frowning line and bug underneath his eyes…

Oh my God your skin is soft, I love your face.

Every touch on his skin was like being touched a million times a second, every hair he felt was like it was growing beneath his hands, every breath he took was like the first day of summer. Had life ever been like this?

How dare they try to end this beauty? How dare they try to end this beauty?

No, he was sure it had not. All the memories he needed of life were of death and betrayal and stepping over hundreds of shattered hearts to get to this moment where he stood before himself naked and unarmed. And he was positive life back there had never felt this way.

To keep us under foot, they bury us in soot. Pretending it's a chore to ship us off to war…

The matter of living, the beings that were left to it seemed suddenly pitiful in his new eyes. To live life every every minute, never knowing what awaits you in the end. He pitied the souls that believed that there was simply nothing when you die, just the dark tunnel. Blind, they were all blind and only Izuru could see.

In this dive we rediscover sensation. In this dive we rediscover sensation…

Now he could see. There was no sense in regretting the time he'd spend ignoring the beauty of the world as his old self, now all he could do was be. Is this death? Simply being?

Walking in space we find the purpose of peace. The beauty of life you can no longer hide.

A light was spreading, branching out from below him to root their way through the Novocain water, reaching out a wispy tendril for him. It touched his skin like raindrops, and soon there were more as the branches of this light touched him. His hands, legs, face, chest…

Our eyes are open.

Was this dying? He thought this as the raindrops spreading about his skin, webbing together and encasing him in white light.

Our eyes are open.

Well, if it was…

Our eyes are open.

He supposed he really didn't mind that much.

Our eyes are open.

He forced his eyes open wide; and there were colors he'd never seen before, dancing around him in warm beautiful rays of light, guiding him forward.
Wide.

Wide.

Wide.

XXX

Well, congrats to those of you who liked it or at least read this far! I had fun typing it up, and was honestly not stopping to think clearly on what the hell I was putting in there, so feel free to think this is just a trip.

AND A QUICK NOTE: To anyone who is currently reading Flesh Failures, I'm very sorry for the lag in updates. As I mentioned, my computer will not save documents anymore, and it is a very long chapter to type up. I'll hopefully have it up by New Years!

Thanks for reading!