Congealed, the masses writhe on the bright city streets. Maggots. The smell of burned popcorn and curried meats laced with the sweet cotton candy aroma of funnel cake shaped sewer-holes steaming with putrid wreak. Dozens of dialects and languages buzz white noise mosquito fights and the calamity is a sustained warm foam bath on a still hotter night. The crunch of pavement beneath my boots satisfies with every hard-heeled step. Unique ants of evolution with higher IQ's and lower aspirations. I am trapped in a trash heap of souls. I am alone among them and I am either preparing for the grave or success. Either way it looks the same from the bedlam.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hard. I hear them squish in their sockets. Full palette blooms splotchy. You can see with your eyes closed! I purge the spent breath from my lungs as if poisonous. Inhale deep the summer in the city.. the summer, in the city.
Asleep and dreaming? Everything keeps passing me by in swirling clouds of colorful dust, all dirty Carrickmacross Lace with millions of pinpoints alight in full spectrum, bodies rushing by transparent in their own purpose driven by free will. In rare moments of lucidity (imaginations) I realize that I am the stranger, a man out of his time.
"The trouble with dreams is they don't come true and when they do, they can catch up to you," whispers the hovering crimson cold above.
I should have taken warning. It's just people mourning, running, hiding, lost. The creeping death of amorous heart, a pestilence, slithers from the storm grates in an idyllic neighborhood. Hugging the streets under pale moonlight it crawls kissing the curbs, avoiding the sparse glow of florescent street lamps. Soon it will reach it's destination within me, concealed and inevident at onset. Zoom through the swirling crisp spiced wind tinged with frigid tickling fingers into the inviting glow of a room, macabre and cozy. I am there swimming in the autumn of the southern gothic, focused with a buckler for a heart.
She is aware of him and her spell lingers like black magic. She transmits. The speech oozes like honey between them, satiating but silent and electronic, pulse quickening with life, lust and promise. Alone, lingering thoughts in the day and night after night, innocent, their fingers intertwine.
So, someone's taking over and it looks like they're aiming right at you and me and everybody (every body). Someone says, "We could be dead by morning". Someone cries, "Oh, oh, leaving!"
"The trouble with dreams is you don't know when to hold on, when to let go." I remember how I looked up and, constant, the blanketing vault of heaven above is the same hue. Blood.
Red skies at night. Red skies at night.
Eyes remain shut, compressed hard. Disallow. The masses writhe around me still. They kiss me with their sentiments and as they pass, they rub their bodies lascivious against mine. Sirens. All of them, liars. I am standing in summer with a heart like winter, living the memory of Fall... fall... How long does it take to fall in... No. Not that word. The buckler is gone. When? How? What are the fucking rules here?! This cannot be. The heart (is a stupid asshole) wants what it wants.
The swarm of flesh in the sweaty bowels of the iron and concrete jungle give voice to unbelief. Their screams are peppered with pleas and lose pattern. The wailing of tires peeled, the roar of twisting metal, the coarse battle cry of explosions. Consideration has been murdered in the calamity. Humanity loses itself in the fear but I remain, thinking of you. I taste the city melting around me. War has come in the form of the celestial sphere. A great suffocation as the wind of the world is gasped into the maw of the sky. The entire city is torn from the face of existence like a weed plucked. In the muffled silence of the radiation gaze, perspiration beads upon my temples just before the atmosphere exhales a planetary hurricane. I am caressed in the eye with my eyes drawn tight. I can't breathe but I drink deeply of reality and I can draw in just fine. I became something so easily discarded (again). Sucker. The pensive cataclysm of hearts unguarded and caught by surprise, I suppose. I don't know. A distraction? Maybe it meant nothing at all to her? I'll probably never know, buried in the desert and abandoned where secrets can be perpetual. The memory of the future dreamt, woven like web from the dens of the witch and the wolf. I exhale with all of my might once more and realize the creeping pestilence of you is here to stay, taken root in the marrow.
Well, fuck. Cue up the dancing music and hand me a drink.
We are temporary and eternal.
*Bad sneakers and a pina colada my friend,
stomping down the avenue by Radio City with a,
transistor and a large sum of money to spend*
I smile in my blind reverie (reality).
Louder this time, "The trouble with dreams is that you can't pretend something with no beginning has no end."
So, it's red skies at night, oh, oh, oh, oh oh, oh oh oh...
Open...
I open my eyes and I am face to face with the moon. She's come to kiss me goodbye.
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