Dream Sequences/Apparitions.

I dream liquid
like freshly applied paint, dripping down the 4th wall
staring at a half-rendered audience, into their gaping mouths
collected in reservoirs
pots and pans
it leaks through ceiling tiles and AC fans
grease cans
beneath subconscious ovens
cooking up realities existing in and of them
collecting all the excess people and places from my life
meshing them together
they envelope the endless canvasses in the pastures of my mind
that are erased before dawn, before the sunrise
they mean everything, explain nothing and then they are gone, goodbye

I dream liquid
like rain in an alley
like a stiff drink
like a garden hose
like a urinal
I piss my thoughts and reconsume them
I let myself be distracted by surrealities for five hours
I am a hostage
a lover
a killer
a victim
And all of it points to something
but in my lucidity I forget which way to look

I dream liquid
as an escape from the solidity of the waking world
the concrete decisions
the black and white
I dream in color
I go everywhere my mind takes me
I am not constricted to a mere three dimensions

I dream liquid

and upon waking in this world, I appreciate how much that means to me.



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He looks about
17.
18? maybe 19.
and he's watching me.
is he?
standing by the row of shopping carts at the entrance,
he has that look about him, that "I-think-I-know-you-or-have-seen-you-before" look
The guy in your gym class who was quiet
you never quite talked to him
the kid in third grade who sat two chairs down
who never really associated with you
I recognize him.
does he know me?
he's got this dead-eyed gaze
he's trying to tell me something, desperately.
a warning?
I have a customer. I ask them for their coupons.
I keep my eyes on him, and he's still staring at me.
is that a smile? a smirk?
or is he just noting the irony of my obliviousness?
The customer hands me their money, and I reluctantly break eye contact.
I glance back, he remains.
No one else seems to care
he's leaning against the cart rack and I can see he has grown solemn
it's his eyes. A sadness.
When did he get here?
who is he?
I'm tempted to go ask him.
But I don't think he really wants to talk to me.
He doesn't have to.
Another customer.
I break the gaze, wanting him to be gone.
and when I look back, he is.
No more guy, no more glare.
he has vanished.

or was he ever there?



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FREESTYLE GO:

saw blade nightshade
gowns made of leather
cuffed to a fence
whipped
stripped and crying
He wakes up with a sigh
lying
he's still there
wishful thinking proves unsuccessful
who are they
why are they doing this
he tries to break free of the plastic cuffs
the safety latch is worn down
it snaps free of the fence
his attackers are gone
he runs along the barrier
it stretches endlessly in one direction but its end is right behind him
They are there
refusing the give chase
laughing at his attempts to escape
this labyrinth is so simple from above
he tires and falls
turning to face his would-be assailants
but he is gone



allllll right so that didn't have an ending, but I feel like I'm forcing it, so you get stuck with that filler piece of shit.


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Bedside
kneeling in prayer
face covered by your hair
tears that well in your eyes but won't leave
you fake your sadness
and their sympathy means everything to you
you are praying to yourself
you are praying for nothing
you will not change
you will not try
you will indulge
here on this bed, sheets soaked in sin
you are praying for forgiveness
but you won't let it in.

You are not a man
nor a woman
you are human
you are humanity at its weakest
you will identify your problem and not solve it
find a solution but refuse to write it down
write letters to yourself about changing your life
live the same live the same forever

I know you
And I'm sorry I do sometimes
when I see you in that glass
naked
when I step from the bath

I am ashamed
Imperfection at its most perfect
I am human.
I am ashamed.
I am worthless
I am ashamed.



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blah.

But seriously, I feel good.


:-P




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