Invisible Cities - "Lesyeux"

As viewed from above, the city of Lesyeux is modelled on the impression of a human eye. A perfect circle of black office buildings jostle in the centre, forming a pupil as depthless and two dimensional as patent-leather. Surrounding the circle is a ring of water, dyed a deep blue, representing an azure iris. A bridge, painted in corresponding blue connects the island of the pupil to the mainland, forming a point of access over the swimming swirling iris.

On the mainland of Lesyeux, the pavements and buildings are constructed of white gleaming tiles. The porcelain coloured houses here are considered to be the most desirable because of their clean looking exteriors. The citizens of the Upper-Classes have claimed these as their own. The black, dirty, sooty streaks of the lashes form the colonies and workplaces of the Working-Classes. The jaundiced, filmed eyes are forced to live here, right on the edge of the city.

Vision is terribly important in the city of Lesyeux, everyone is a pair of eyes, floating up over the pavement. No citizen of Lesyeux is a perfect, tangible being. They're reduced to mere eyeballs, all they have is the power of sight, they can only move around and see.

Observation of the Station (rhyming couplet unintended)

The jagged bulk of the trains jerked to a standstill with a screech over the railway lines. They were black with accumulated filth and puffed, wheezed and squealed like an asthmatic, hysterical woman.

Above this terrible noise, the announcements droned over everyones heads, obviously read out by people with a permanent cold. They informed every passenger present that the trains were ready and waiting to take them ton any destination on the British Mainland; from Perth to Plymouth. The announcers threw their cries into the filthy air, telling that the next train to arrive at Platform three would be the 21:30 to Birmingham New Street.

Whilst trains arrived and announcers struggled to be heard, people of every race, gender and social class were spewed out onto the platform, just as an equal number tried to pile through the very same doors they were exiting from. Each one had the regulation orange and yellow ticket clutched in their right hand. Grubby from so much handling. They elbowed each other out of the way, shouted to be heard above the row and some even tripped each other up in their frantic scramble to get to their destination before everyone else.

Hallucination

I watched the train as it pulled into the filthy station, adding its own dirt to the foul collection. The station was so old it had not been cleaned in at least twenty years and dirty filthy pools of rainwater were everywhere. The dirt seemed to grab me and grapple with me, it clogged my senses so that I couldn't think. Breathing was becoming difficult and my throat was tight. The devilish dirt held me in its grip, dragging me down into a hallucination

Down, down, down. Down into the deepest dungeons of my mind. Past the mundane streams of consciousness. Past my strange unconscious desires. The hallucination was dragging me down further into the torture chamber of my mind which held my obscure phobias.

The chamber opened onto a slaughterhouse. A butcher, with arms stained scarlet from his fingernails to his elbows, stared me down. In his hand he held a meat clever and I could see several slaughtered cows littering the floor. HE had skined their hides and here I was. A human victim.