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September 27, 2014

That F*cking Dream. {A Rambling}

bronx./Flickr

Warning: F-bombs up ahead. 

That dream.

That f*cking dream. Why it comes I don’t know but I hear it. I know it. I live it.

It’s possible

Very possible

That you are there…

Wary in my dream

Begging me onward

Wanting something more.

Why do you f*cking tease me? Why do you tell me those sweet things there, while I hardly know you here? Why is everything so perfect there? Why am I not feeling your hand on my face when my eyes are open and my face is pointed into the sunlight?

Why do you only know me in the passions of the night? In sleep, heaven

Awake I find hell

Talk to me please

Tell me what you need

I beg, I plead

Please release me to the night.

Or have the night release me to the day.

In the most positive reflections I stare, even as the tears stream down my face in those moments of despair. My body is frozen as you comfort me and like some lost child you feed me, warm me…

…until I awake and return to the emptiness, to the rigid warfare between heart and mind. I return to the stoic prose of a writer’s pen, to the slow and painful ticks of a clock never wound. Who is this beast I see? Who are these vermin that lie dormant at my feet?

I digress for I love you too.

Thank you for listening, thank you for laughing at my insanity.

Lost in your body

The song whispers in my ear

The meal laid out before me

I bend my back to eat…

Such power in the taste of love

So addicting to the palate

Once eaten, never to be lost

Like an apple from some fabled tree.

The Serpent, she calls my name again.

I want to cry with you. I want to cry in you. I want to laugh in the mist, dance in the fog and make love under those stars you love so much. I want to hold the moon between my fingers and give you a piece of me in each slow, tempestuous caress. I want you to want more, to beg for it even as I am giving it to you. I want to feel the joy of your pleasure.

A sigh. Sh*t. There is nothing here but the birds and the crickets. I swear I saw you there and felt your hair on my thighs. Nope, nothing. Empty air and the charades of certain shadows on my wall. I laugh, aimlessly focused at nothing at all, my failure all but certain. Some may call this insanity. I call it living.

You’ve judged me here already,

Haven’t you?

He needs help, he’s losing his mind

He’s a danger to society…

Yet this mind is completely clear I’m just dreaming…

This f*cking dream…

And you’re so vain,

You probably think this song is about you.

Don’t you…

Don’t you…

Tell me it’s not funny, our suffering. How we choose to put our hand in a meat grinder and then complain about the pain. We’ve watched others suffer our condition long ago yet we repeat their errors thinking this is the way it is supposed to be. Then we hurt. Then we cry. Then we die.

Ever wonder what it would be like to destroy all of the constructs you were handed at birth? No, my shoes don’t need to match my belt. No, my hair need not be brushed. Apparently, my elbows do belong on the table.

What if we never need marry to stay together. What if we didn’t stay together for the kids? What if we f*cked in public places instead of got in fist fights there? What if we chose to make love with greater skill than we made war? What if I could pee outside? What if I didn’t have to walk in your straight line or keep my mouth shut in church or do whatever you told me to do?

What if I knew she wouldn’t lie to me? That she would not hurt me? What if I always knew the truth. What if I always trusted it?

What if I didn’t need to be fixed? What if you didn’t see me as broken? What if you just loved—what if I just loved you back?

What if’s are a motherf*cker, if you don’t mind me saying so myself.

Distortions of reality, lies we tell ourselves that suggest the crickets would be silent and the empty air around us would somehow be filled. If only.

What if deep, spiritual, deeply sexual gurus said motherfucker once in a while? Hhhhhmmmm. I’d respect that. At least she wouldn’t make me stand in a straight line. At least she wouldn’t mind if I said so myself.

Yes, I have ADHD although the H is often silent nowadays. Imagine having a dream so powerful that you never wanted to wake up, that you just wanted the slumber to continue. Perhaps I’ll go to sleep now.


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Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: bronx./Flickr

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