Day 15 – Stolen

Finally caught up, half way through the month! Actually I think that’s pretty impressive, given that I was away working for all of last week. I have been writing a lot this past week thanks to Nanowrimo. Thank you, and thank you all for the likes and comments on the pieces I’ve produced so far.

 

Like a thief

You crept

Into my room last night

I was alone in my too-large bed

Curled up around my books

As a child with its bear

And you planted a single breath

On my face

While I shifted, lilting, between dreams

I never stirred

But in the dream

Your face blossomed like a sudden flame

And I knew then.

 

What did you take from me

Only something I thought I could never give

And I never asked for it back

Because I never thought I’d need it again

After you

There are no words

No notebook, no pencil

Nowhere to write

You have stolen all this from me

And replaced it with air

Which is not the same

As nothingness.

Calluses and experience

I was in my room
Learning the words
To the songs on the ceiling
Looped lyrics round the lampshades
Outside the window birds changed from
Swooping to dying in chromatic scale
Battered on the glass helpless as hail
You were already lost in the
Halo of a car crash

When you were clashing shoulder
Blades with nightmare knives
I was in my room
Connecting the dots
On the staves
Into filigree mosaics
Tessellating tiles like sharpened teeth
Outside the window seasons blurred
Rising and falling arpeggios
Leaves like skeletons absorbed and oblivious

I was in my room
Coaxing melted wax
Into rivulets
Burning through notepaper
With indigo ink like incense
Outside the window people were
Lacing up the country in wire
Corset constrained and powerless
You were falling into the hole
Left when your parents lost
Control of their skin cells

When you were burning and shaving
Equating removal of pain with
Unbuilding the body
I was in my room
Reading postcards
Addressed in foreign letters
Closed in dotted boxes
Words without the weight of bruises
Outside the window everyone was
Autosomatic curved in like nodes
Without potential empty of amplitude

I was in my room
While everything funnelled into entropy
Outside the window
All I can write about
Is the glass that divides us

via Calluses and experience.

On Dreaming

In the last month or so I’ve started dreaming again after many months without dreaming. Maybe over a year in fact. It’s a weird experience. Imagine what it would be like to dream for the first time as an adult. Your brain is filled with all these images and ideas and events which cannot possibly have happened.

For instance, in my dream (and this is true), I was in LA (a place I’ve never visited) at a tv studio, and I left to use the bathroom. For some reason I found myself wandering the streets of LA. Down the middle of the street was a green raised divide, down which people could jog because it was made of some springy material. I tried it out and it was very bouncy. There were people cycling and rollerblading on either side. I was apparently overdressed in a grey coat (possibly the same one I bought for the Montreal winter) and walking around aimlessly. I was just contemplating the likelihood of being shot in Hollywood, when a manhole cover exploded high into the air. Everyone paused to see where it would come down.

In the next part of my dream I was hanging out with Troy and Jeff from Community on my way to a Billie Jean party. But that is just too silly to even recount.

For a long time I had no dreams, then only nightmares, so having dreams at all is quite novel. Tell me some of your dreams.