Sunday, February 20, 2011

wednesday eleven twenty ate

The dream it was not sudden. Not so as you'd notice.
Hard and pointed as rocks tumbling from low grown mountain. Still they're hard to cipher as a single bluebird wing. Nigerian Afro psychedelic rock holds it's own in the early morning dark.
The final hours.
Tendrils of smoke and all that early morning imagery if it suits you.

Tomorrow is. Could be. Another busy day if we arrive in time.
I dreamt there was but only a single, one-more day.
Vibrant colors. Flying fish. Sailors aswagger with zeal. Finally come the drums.
For now only seeing stars but we don't know where we are. Or they. Living on in such a modern style. Far from all reality.
Over in the corner we placed the large void. Covered the evening.
Promise me the star, the seas. The phosphorence of creatures smaller even than me. The cold of a body greater than the depths of those who know.
Empty spaces, vast as Siberia. Waiting for a faith.
Probably any one will do. We have noting to compare. No grace from earth.
A circular motion we fall through languid airs.
They didn't want to turn this way.
A bag of totems for life and luck. Maybe a set of tickets to something.
The end.
It's coming.
But the end is only more.

I wash my body.
It disappears.
Joyous can be but silent so it is that we remain.
A singular new business each dawning day, washing all but that we can't. Leaving in mid conversation but whose the talking none of us know. Good enough then to know much as any can. Once when they are the rest are not. Taking away from any one leaves more the same behind.

Never want to grow to be a man.
Some did anyway.
Men. Eunuchs. I can't say.
We're not in imperial China anymore.
Same as always. You know it. No matter your denials.
Expected means no surprise. No fascination.
Deny your likeness. What it means to learn.
If god made man in his image how can he expect anything more?
What's done leaves no changing for any of it now.

The us, the we, the one you think is. Never enough. We can't take on like them others. Don't want to grow to be a girl. And not the other. Not one place we've been is safe for that.
Things might be bad in Cincinnati but that's pretty far. Least so far as we know. Could be. Probably is. More than we can know, so how to know where they mighta run too? For there and then we have no worries. Not here with these ones. No one else we know. Perhaps to cleanse. Whatever is.

As easy to breathe under water. Now. I find room for me. For the rest.
Should I thank them that thought this?
I wash my body and it disappears. Then on wakening I'm already found.
Love defined as absence of violence overt. Your own conveniences and temper. Convince me to please you, just me as we are. I am. We are fast beyond that place. Doubting ever the random possibilities of love. Your heart I have no use or want but dripping in my hand. Metaphorically. My synergy sinking.

Show no fear.
Destroy. Revive. Destruct.
Wash rinse repeat.
Dress your best for the simian disco.
Moving to the other side of my head.
The chances are that you are, come undone. Or that we are confused.
Of every rope there is a tension.
Trips of perversion.
Truths wildly untamed in the manner of superstition.
An avalanche I've yet to see.

No comments:

About Me

houston, tx, United States

Blog Archive

My Blog List