Ever notice how nap dreams seem to differ in style than dreams of the night? At times, they seem less serious; playful. A glimpse of a worlds' corner outside my reach.
It's funny how less than a minute can so quickly become an eternity. She had walked away to use the bathroom, patting my head before departing. I grunt, exhaling loud, forceful sighs in childs' play. During this lapse of abandonment I burrow into the blanket-nest we had sculpted moments before. The whites and yellows and purples and greens are still warm from her touch, they still breath her air. I nestle into their colors, digging deeper still. I feel her glowing over me, but I cannot emerge.
Her hand on my shoulder tries to uncover me. The heat of her breath tickles my skin as I claw at the sheets. I move my mouth to speak but my voice is buried in silence. I am frozen. My spirit drifts outside my physical form, I float inches above her, resting my chin on her shoulder. She pauses; does she sense me? I want her to feel me. I want the waves within me to collide with her ocean.
Still speechless, I waft through the kitchen as a ghost would down a stream. I find the closet and am somehow drawn inside of it. My flesh-self still rests limp on the bed, her claws flitting about me; eyes burning into me. I need them to follow the path my soul has taken, to find me bubbling and huddled on the floor of this lonely closet. I reach for the handle of the door and have to catch myself from colliding with the ground--I have passed through it. My shaky hand and the rickety door handle are unable to become one. I thrash about. I turn myself upside down; inside out. I lion-roar.
Then I am left weak and exhausted and moon-beamed and still sobbing. I paw at my phantom body and speak her name between love-labored breaths. Spit dangles from my quivering lip as I morph into a ball of insecurities on the stale floor. I am vacant.
My eyes burst open as a sudden calm crawls over my skin. Her face is inches away from my own, resting beautifully underneath the palm of my hand. One of her arms is coiled up beside the frame of her body; like a spring-loaded snake inside a peanut-can. I trace the outline of the other with my eyes until I realize that it is my warmth-source. Hibernating between my legs, she has awakened me.
She drinks every last drop of my senses flowing over.
<3 runt
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Wherever I go, I take you with me.
I heard a story about love once. It was more of an anecdote, really, a statement filled with rhetoric. You throw me against walls every night of my life, sometime more warlike than usual, but sometimes there is a trace of some sort of devotion; something more than simple repetative violence. Sometimes, I think the you in my brain still loves me.
The setting is usually blase. A car, sometimes a dry barren field. Tonight, we are in a boat about to be shipwrecked at the stern of her justifications. I see her, a mermaid carved into the ship's woodwork so that she, too, is instrumental in this. She, too, is in the body of the schooner, holding it together, holding us afloat.
I scream something about how this isn't the right time for this to happen, as if I have some sort of control over when you interject into my dreams. You laugh dryly, unamused really, and say that timing is everything. It is, it really is.
So I walk around the starboard side of the ship, looking for a vector for escape back to something else. A porthole that might really be a wormhole.
Eventually you get tired, or bored, and come to find me. You have an anchor tattooed to your arm. I don't think it's fitting on you, but feel impolite staring, so I tell you I like it. You know I'm lying, and that's where you snap.
As you reach for my paralyzed body, something else switches on in you. A glimmer in the corner of your mouth, and as your hands grip my arms and you shake me, banging my head against the ship's bow, I see a sadness growing. It hesitates in that space, but it is there. The mermaid of my heart begins to sing a soft lilting lullaby, and tears well up in your eyes. You drop me, look away. This is what haunts me when I wake, the possibility that you've hurt yourself more than you've damaged me.
As the ship disappears from around me, you fade away too, and I suddenly am inside of a tent, and it is warm and glowing outside, and I wonder if the fires have begun. S is with me, he is asleep inside a warm sleeping bag, and seems unbothered by the fires. I snuggle in closer to him and whisper, "fire can't destroy this. We are more than the sum of our carbons."
As the dream fades, I know this to be true. We are more than the sum of our carbons.
--runt
The setting is usually blase. A car, sometimes a dry barren field. Tonight, we are in a boat about to be shipwrecked at the stern of her justifications. I see her, a mermaid carved into the ship's woodwork so that she, too, is instrumental in this. She, too, is in the body of the schooner, holding it together, holding us afloat.
I scream something about how this isn't the right time for this to happen, as if I have some sort of control over when you interject into my dreams. You laugh dryly, unamused really, and say that timing is everything. It is, it really is.
So I walk around the starboard side of the ship, looking for a vector for escape back to something else. A porthole that might really be a wormhole.
Eventually you get tired, or bored, and come to find me. You have an anchor tattooed to your arm. I don't think it's fitting on you, but feel impolite staring, so I tell you I like it. You know I'm lying, and that's where you snap.
As you reach for my paralyzed body, something else switches on in you. A glimmer in the corner of your mouth, and as your hands grip my arms and you shake me, banging my head against the ship's bow, I see a sadness growing. It hesitates in that space, but it is there. The mermaid of my heart begins to sing a soft lilting lullaby, and tears well up in your eyes. You drop me, look away. This is what haunts me when I wake, the possibility that you've hurt yourself more than you've damaged me.
As the ship disappears from around me, you fade away too, and I suddenly am inside of a tent, and it is warm and glowing outside, and I wonder if the fires have begun. S is with me, he is asleep inside a warm sleeping bag, and seems unbothered by the fires. I snuggle in closer to him and whisper, "fire can't destroy this. We are more than the sum of our carbons."
As the dream fades, I know this to be true. We are more than the sum of our carbons.
--runt
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