Harold's Eyes
By Lily Rose Guillen
I arrived at heaven's backdoor.
Legs dragging and feet blistered, the cemented road had torn my limbs to the point of raw
carnage.
The halo hovered, flickering with light that danced in and out of frame.
It proceeded to constrict my neck.
Tighter and tighter, only loosening enough for me to grasp onto a small thread of hope which
was dashed with a quick slash in my oxygen intake.
Who knew the dead needed to breathe?
My eyes welled over with tears which dripped down the grooves and valleys of my face.
Clinging to the impurities, the tears grew murky, giving the kiss of death an appreciation of life
to drown everyone in purgatory.
Purgatory was a waiting room.
Life is Purgatory!
Life is wonderful, full of many spiders. Long legs, triangular faces.
If you happen to have an oval face you descend to Heaven; if you're lucky, you fly to Hell.
Hell is green, or at least that's what Harold, our gay interior designer, says.
I wouldn't know. I'm blind. Being blind is nice because I can't hear what you're saying.
Yell at me!
Your words feel cold, cold like ice, leaving me hot.
Body burning, bones aching, skin that blooms pink. Cherry blossomed blisters.
The soft flesh hardens and falls away leaving a brilliant purple light that has the appearance of
liquid metal coating your entirety.
Your lips illuminated but remain salty and your skin tastes sweet, like candy your mother forgets
in her handbag.
Legs dragging and feet blistered, the cemented road had torn my limbs to the point of raw
carnage.
The halo hovered, flickering with light that danced in and out of frame.
It proceeded to constrict my neck.
Tighter and tighter, only loosening enough for me to grasp onto a small thread of hope which
was dashed with a quick slash in my oxygen intake.
Who knew the dead needed to breathe?
My eyes welled over with tears which dripped down the grooves and valleys of my face.
Clinging to the impurities, the tears grew murky, giving the kiss of death an appreciation of life
to drown everyone in purgatory.
Purgatory was a waiting room.
Life is Purgatory!
Life is wonderful, full of many spiders. Long legs, triangular faces.
If you happen to have an oval face you descend to Heaven; if you're lucky, you fly to Hell.
Hell is green, or at least that's what Harold, our gay interior designer, says.
I wouldn't know. I'm blind. Being blind is nice because I can't hear what you're saying.
Yell at me!
Your words feel cold, cold like ice, leaving me hot.
Body burning, bones aching, skin that blooms pink. Cherry blossomed blisters.
The soft flesh hardens and falls away leaving a brilliant purple light that has the appearance of
liquid metal coating your entirety.
Your lips illuminated but remain salty and your skin tastes sweet, like candy your mother forgets
in her handbag.
Salutations or some other form of greeting. My name is Lily Rose Guillen and I am a student here at Pasadena City College. I've been here since the Fall of 2016 and have struggled trying to find my direction, however I’ve always enjoyed writing and approaching things with a new perspective and ideas grander than the last. This summer I decided to take a creative writing class and I can say wholeheartedly that I have never enjoyed a class this much through my whole schooling experience. Not only was it an outlet, but it gave me accessibility to critique and to students who also had the same interest. I still don't know what direction I’ll travel to but writing is something that is invaluable.
