crawl
things like dreams and dreams like days and days like things i’ve never known. there are no in-betweens when everything keeps to the edges. and there are no divisions when everything subverts everything else.
but there are no dreams, not truly. there are memories and a confluence of biochemical processes. there are phrases turned in wistfulness and the desire for pain to subside. and yet, a life without pain is hardly one worth living. and so the dreams, the memories, the processes all bring a pain that is both a comfort and a lie.
This entry was posted on Saturday, July 3rd, 2010 at 22:52 and is filed under hidden light, perpetual dawnne. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
on July 21st, 2010 at 20:46
Your images have constructed a mental painting. With “merely” words. And I find this so eerily timely, I’m slightly freaked out by the synchronicity of it. Very nicely done. Again: thank you.
on July 23rd, 2010 at 22:58
thank you, Deb. sometimes those who connect work in non-concentric circles. this might not have been timely, when i wrote it, but i’m glad you find it relevant now.