The time wasted in bed collecting drops of inexhausted energy. No wonder I can’t ever sleep. This coffee of mine is a bottomless cup. I see you when I die. Every orgasm a tiny death. The liquor holds off the dreams, and when I quit it they hit me like nightmares. Teeth grind and I wake up sore jawed. Sometimes I’m caught in it’s limbo, and hear the nonsense conversations fill the room. Familiar voices, loud enough to feel the steam of breath, but every word obscured in shadows.
This is a realm of sensation. A snake like slithering. The air feels gelatinous. The cold sweat of fear without consequence rolls down my neck. It dries fast. My body vibrates, struck by a cosmic steamroller. Darkness. In between dreams again. Alone.
Next thing I know I’m awake. Guess the rest of the dream was business as usual. Proud of the territory crossed, I live on to forget it entirely. Drops of lucidity on the ground. No shoes in this household. It’s been a while since somethings really stuck. Those rare dreams of radiant landscapes. The emotionally symbolic ones. Even the disturbing. They are so rare for me, yet they are so meaningful. The shadow realm ain’t so bad, once in a blue moon. I’m happy with what I can get, however I get it. They say to keep a journal. Give me a fucking break.
They also say bed should only be for sleeping, but I do a whole lot more of awake things. Like admire the view from here of my desk. A good desk. And all the instruments I don’t often use. A space, a life, a movement. I took my TV out so I would spend less time here. I just watch less TV now.
There’s a virus outside whose sole purpose it is to justify all of this. This and the drinking. Cheers. To many more nightmares. They are a beautiful thing.