anonymousblack: (desparation)
sex is like christmas, but it hurts.
and whatever you get, you always want more.
and if you don't get anything new, well,
at least you can play with your old toys.

and there's always something left unsaid
and there's always something you could have done better
and there's always something that is

probably
(doubtlessly)

killing you





slowly.

and i look where i don't want to look and i think what i don't want to think and i dream and i dream and let's not even get into it like a slap like an involuntary twitch like a matter that could be cancer like another matter that could be cancer at the end of the day we're just out there somewhere down below outside and over

just over
just a little bit further
just a little bit longer
hang on just hang on
i'm coming for you
i am
i will
just 153 more days

i am tired of secret enemies
the beautiful and inaccessible
i am tired of never getting anything done

i am tired of hair falling out
my endless capacity for malicious scrutiny
and the sore spot at my jaw's hinge

i am tired of not sleeping
so maybe i should sleep
but i don't know
this could be considered getting something done

stream of

May. 21st, 2014 12:34 am
anonymousblack: (funny that way)
look, i don't lucid dream. i have lucid flashes, moments when i put it together: geez, you know? not only am i not currently living in my childhood bedroom, but i painted over the lime green shelves in 1989 and then entirely removed them from the wall ten years after that, plus i don't remember this tarot deck as having quite so many cards drawn by eight year olds, so wow, this can't really be happening, can it? or i'll think: well, i really ought to try listening to that album before i wake up, because then i won't get to hear it. and then i'll just go on about my dream, unaffected. if it really, really clicks: if i put the language of "i am dreaming" along with the physical understanding of that idea, which has happened maybe twenty times in the course of my life, i startle myself awake with the recognition.

usually, i just act lucid while still staying in the course of the dream. for instance, this morning:

i'm working with my fellow freedom fighters to get out of the dystopian cliche that constitutes about 40% of my dreams that aren't unimaginable fights with my sister. we come around a corner in a strangely familiar crumbling cityscape and there, in an otherwise burned out stripmall, is a well lit and maintained sanrio shop from the mid-eighties. my eyes fall on the pearly pink storefront and i scream to my comrades:

OH SHIT! FALL BACK FALL BACK FALL BACK

i grab a friend and we run for cover. obviously, the looks i receive are questioning. i press my fingers to my temples and mutter to myself.

"what," someone asks, "what?"

"i've been trying to reprogram a little," i sob. "work out some new symbols for some of my major reoccurring themes. because i can't deal with the standards any longer. but longing is just one of those things i'm going to dream about, so the symbols are going to be there and - dragging you guys into this... i'm so sorry."

"what?"

"any time my subconscious drags out the fucking hello kitty store as a symbol for the things i'll never have... shit is about to get weird."

*

and... yeah.
pretty much.

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