I hear “Stop.”
I hear “Push it.”
I hear “Go.”
I see washed out images
of hands and faces,
scraps of something
I have done;
somewhere I have yet to be.
I feel motion,
coupled with cold,
coupled with moisture.
Fingers on wrist skin,
gentle and soft.
Nothing revealing,
mystery stranger;
stranger than I have ever been.
I don’t see eyes
and it’s hard to make out
the details.
I know you’re mad.
I know you want to fuck me.
Running away
from nameless pursuers.
Coal-grey sky,
reveals nothing I’m after.
No sense of direction,
time,
or anything I used to hold on to.
Why,
have they come
to torment me
before the time?
Return
to the beginning of this long lie.
Telling it all again
is boring and tired.
Scraping bottom, now,
almost back to shore again.
Flash
Strobe
Pulse
Light
Heat
Sweat
Veins pump blood.
I’m waking up from this.
I’m waking up from this.
I’ve had enough of this.
Right
now.
Is this the world,
or is this the dream, again?
One dimension down,
or just to the left again?
You were there,
but here you are.
I saw you,
but here you are.
There is no dawn
in the other place,
so I’ll just sit here and wait
to see if it is today.
HG – 2018
