LOST continued
I would daily breathe more and more of the freshest air that I'd ever breathed.
Nautical deformations in the formula to great ingenious codes spitting into the graphics using stair steps to carry bowling outfits into the bootstraps and training courses. Without you, there is a dozen peat moss covered surveys to uncover and desperate hands to pour cashes to and golden stages to appear on, silver cities to haunt, alien weapons to use, groceries to purchase in steroid heaven.
These are greased up monikers of what were meant to become scientists but there were holes in their story.
Desperation set in too early.
I was photographed.
I sat with them.
Dinners filled up the sewer drains.
Up stairs, to your right is a door because the ceiling is missing.
Okay, yes and to your right the doors are no longer present.
Baseball bat comes into view behind over your left shoulder.
Hallway leads back to your right.
Red tricycle moves between things. You and I, we see coat hangers. The walls are old and used to be white, it looks green in here. Light from the attic. Light comes in from the attic someone stands in each room of the house, or everyone walks around at once. I know all these people. Why is the bald man always showing up. He must own it. He must live here.
I'm disturbing him by being here. To the roof.
I see a ladder, climb it, I'm on another floor, and the roof is nice. I see everybody down below going round and round.
I see the skylight. Sections in sections, green and black, blue and green and black and white and sky and stars, it all comes and it all goes.
I'm turning my head. The rooms turn it for me. Everyone knows what I need to see, what I want to taste, who I want to talk with, when I'm listening and the God I worship.
They have all studied for such a long time. They know the way I hold things in my hands. What I plan to do with them. They know what I'm thinking, where I sleep. How I sleep and where I go when I dream. They know because this is where I come when I dream. To the apartments above the hotel and the maze, above the false food court and above the factory. It is above every dream thing I have ever visited or seen. It is my place of deep rest.
/ * Barbie dolls don't talk about funny things, I am now at the window, all there is to be said can easily be calculated by:
"Don't be falling in love in that love pile. Fed only on absolute vodka and grain alcohol… I can only now mention that it is bad for your liver to fall in love. It is a very deep flame made of puddles that is otherwise a camera, otherwise known as the eye of the spark." The person to my left passes me the pepper; it's early morning in an eating station within our latest mall.
"Very well put this early in the morning…" We all trail off into our breakfast, each of us depending on thoughts and memories taken from a catalogue of crippling moments in our past nights. Nothing more is said during the remainder of our meal and I finish a large pile of eggs.
When I get up to leave everything begins to change.
Wearing jasmine hats and wind breakers we dance to the sound of the shore break, a very difficult rhythm in a cellulose world, yet we have become animals and it becomes less and less tricky as we glance into the sun melting everything. With me I bring plants of many forms. I glance in the direction of a memory and see match sticks lying on the floor. Back to the sea, I look to my feet. Past rooms fold out in front, in many different frames of consciousness. Things sent through mail are showing up at a doorstep in space.
Mint heavens come out of nowhere.
From behind a wood paneled wall, where the family portraits and pictures of babies hang, I try to wipe my eyes but the smell of mint is strong. I hear something crumbling and it moves me back, jewelry falls off of the ceiling and moves up.
I think about the problems in the world, the examples I have seen in dreams, everything teaches a lesson even when it is flying upward. Even when it's cinnamon breath that tells you your toast is burning and your eyes are a flame. They are lessons for some later date off in the future just waiting for you.
Everything is sipping milk from the table. Announcements are made and smells are left lingering through the halls as night comes closing over the distant safety of the day.
Wing nuts spatter wordless sayings across the walls of office buildings.
The slow story comes quickly over video before noticeably ingested. Whispering to me behind the ears I think about taking you out back for a wash. Unfortunately I can't because of the dog shit.
So, instead we decide to go dancing in the forest. We take the small trail that takes us up to the edge of town.
I begin talking about how it might look good to throw confetti at the mirror and you stumble over a branch. We make our way into dense forest and a memory of a movie shows up in my head. I smile and we begin dancing together. The smell in your hair excites me and we mix together in the forests mist and fresh air.
You touch me softly on my leg and move your hand up my hip. And I watch you looking at my chest with love. Memories flicker by. More old movies, stuff I said in classrooms.
I chuckle.
"What?" You say.
"Oh, its nothing." I say.
END