Lucid Acid

We shared a long kiss, and for the first time, it was sour.
Not the figurative our-love-is-dead sour, but the literal you-ate-dead-grapefruit sour.  You had the higher ground and I was struggling against gravity to evade acidic saliva.

Despite the taste, I still loved kissing you and waited for the moment to end before informing you.  In another part of the same dream we were laughing and running through winding tunnels of color until we found a place where no one could see and we could be ourselves.  You smiled at me.

Out of nowhere, Matt Lang appeared at the tunnel's opening.  We had been followed.  This wasn't the first time Matt had walked unannounced/uninvited into tonight's subconscious belly, and I remember shaking my head at him and thinking, Next time I see you in the waking world, I'm gonna get you back for ruining my otherwise romantic dream.

Literal

She finally asked me.

War and Culture

Last night I was in a theater, classic, red waterfalls of velvet.

During the performance I felt a sting on my leg and heard

the people around me in pain, ducking from rapidfire.

On my way to the floor I was shot in the side. 

I crawled as far away from the gunshots as I could before

blacking out.  When I awoke

all of the bodies had been taken outside to military trucks

and I was alone.  I stood 

and I was alive.

I climbed onto the rooftop of the theater 

into a sea of buildings

stepping from one rooftop to another

to escape.