Yesterday morning I awoke before waking, opening my eyes to swim in the dark. By the time I arrived at work, my eyes were completely fatigued from treading water.
I think I was diving for dreams. I haven't found many lately.
Friday, January 14, 2011
An Epic Dream from 11.09.10
I.
destination is undecided
our backs face the city
from our pockets we collect six dollars
and our thumbs to hail a taxi
red tail lights gleam against gray ground
we are gone
in each others laughter and
the scent of the same shampoo
lost and losing track of time
until a nickel or dime
or well penny wish will not save us
savings beyond spent
one hundred twenty owed
to a stranger
we ask for amnesty
he pardons kindly
never pauses or slows the
syncopated love song
hummed by four tires to the highway
II.
night falls like black sand
the man behind the wheel stops for fuel
at a station that is open but abandoned
out of the car he comes into the backseat
and lamb is wolf
chaos
stop help sharp hit
hands lips teeth demand
stop sharp hope
see knife
hands flash hit
help there is crimson
destination undecided
our backs face the city
blood neither mine nor yours
no taxi can be hailed
to pacify the crescendo of sirens
I turn the ignition
red tail lights gleam
we are gone
III.
at the top of a mountain range
salted with snow and peppered
with tourists and suicide notes
I park and realize the corpse is you
lift you in my arms and walk over the edge
you were gone and so am I
but something goes wrong
with this something going wrong already
you are feather light and I colossal
collide with cutout mountain triangles
wrinkling the earth until i fall without you
through a sea that used to be sky
I dive up to foreign air
gasp and fall to breathe the water
and gone is now here
and gray lights gleam
and day is second is eternity
destination is undecided
our backs face the city
from our pockets we collect six dollars
and our thumbs to hail a taxi
red tail lights gleam against gray ground
we are gone
in each others laughter and
the scent of the same shampoo
lost and losing track of time
until a nickel or dime
or well penny wish will not save us
savings beyond spent
one hundred twenty owed
to a stranger
we ask for amnesty
he pardons kindly
never pauses or slows the
syncopated love song
hummed by four tires to the highway
II.
night falls like black sand
the man behind the wheel stops for fuel
at a station that is open but abandoned
out of the car he comes into the backseat
and lamb is wolf
chaos
stop help sharp hit
hands lips teeth demand
stop sharp hope
see knife
hands flash hit
help there is crimson
destination undecided
our backs face the city
blood neither mine nor yours
no taxi can be hailed
to pacify the crescendo of sirens
I turn the ignition
red tail lights gleam
we are gone
III.
at the top of a mountain range
salted with snow and peppered
with tourists and suicide notes
I park and realize the corpse is you
lift you in my arms and walk over the edge
you were gone and so am I
but something goes wrong
with this something going wrong already
you are feather light and I colossal
collide with cutout mountain triangles
wrinkling the earth until i fall without you
through a sea that used to be sky
I dive up to foreign air
gasp and fall to breathe the water
and gone is now here
and gray lights gleam
and day is second is eternity
Monday, October 4, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)