Oooh. Hi! Where was I? I swear I was a year behind until just moments ago, har har. Opened my eyes, and what do you know -- there's a saddle. Nice saddle, I reckon, though I don't know much from saddles. Guess what? I fit in it, though. Right like I'd always been a-sat here. This must've been my saddle all along. Damn what them New Year's parties can do to the mind.

Does rain dream of becoming snow? Each snowflake is different, each raindrop the same. Each rainstorm is a shade of grey, each snowfall a dazzling chaos of white. Are raindrops pupae, snowflakes in chrysalis form, waiting to be frozen into individuality?

This is the open eye of the man awake for three days, four days, mealless.
No food is okay. Fasting. Purity. Clarity.
I have not yet been featured on Animal Planet. But anything is possible.

I dreamed this dream out loud. I marked it on a calendar: This day, my dream will come true. I became my own hand of fate, slipping with style through every possibility's grasp that did not interest me. I had a dream, I wanted it made real, I dreamed that dream aloud.

I've become a naked history. Pageless, parchement free, a book of only covers. I'm hiding the pages. Want to see? Read me. Come closer.

Talk to me talk to me talk to me sound sound voice voice I need touch me touch me I need to be felt to be fed feel me please touch me talk to me talk to me feel me I'm here I'll always be touch me touch me touch

everybody's got to have someplace they call home. I think mine is somewhere in this

dream as the car slid into the swamp, I gave in, sighed as the thick water closed over the sunroof, blotting the moon to a shiver. I wasn't that far down. I had oxygen enough to rise. It wasn't the seatbelt. It wasn't the water, the water was warm. I gave in and died eyes open.

tonight, with a smile on my face, I think I'll aim for death and - for a change - hopefully miss. I simply must get close to the power.

I found the truth: The world was never flat; the moon is. And in the bleat of a bus horn I awoke, realizing I had been dreaming, lost in the lakes of the moon. Of course, the moon was a compact disc.

I just want to be your little mouse again in a pointy hat, I just want to be ink-drawn, then erased, maybe to come back to life by your loving pen, redrawn as a good man.

And it all comes back round again, parabola, entropy, energy, life ongoing to death ongoing to life ongoing to the sun, the moon, the place where dreams become prayers become wishes become magic we can perform to make our joy come true, it all comes back again, January and Decmeber and all the moments in between, it come sback to you, to me, it doesn't care if you're bad or good or somewhere in between, it just cares that you try, it all just cares that you just try to just be one true thing, be one true thing, before the clock hits the final hour and it all comes back round again become one true thing and make that thing glory.

permalink