Monday, July 27, 2009
People still have dreams. I know it. I saw them in a tent trailer. Inside looking out seeing a new horizon. In a world of pain and hate some rely upon dreams. Cancel the check and hold the funds this item isn’t for sale. Out the window at a passing glance they looked nice. Up with the window out with the world. Close the box and begin your expedition. Inside it is warm. I feel some pressure, but it might be allergy related. Property is expensive and I still must rent. Looking over the bluff I begin to notice familiar faces and begin to feel sick. I don’t know where it comes from or why. I think I know them but it hurts. Often low flying vessels zing by at astonishing speeds. They are perfectly silent, but my ears still hurt. The sickness fades away and it’s partner depression takes over. Under the weight I cannot move. Silently I sit. Motionless I want to shut off. The light turns on and it’s my mom. I’m sitting in a white room surrounded by cushions, hands out preventing a fall. Once again I can move. The door opens and I glide outside. The streets are full and I feel all eyes. Anger and love churn in a caldron somewhat similar to a pressure cooker. All is saturated. Fatigue sets in and once again I lack the nourishment to go on. Lying in the festering street I begin to simulate perfection. No one notices, business as usual.