9.5.11

a matter of blank spaces

dear diary,
i collect minimal techno and party invitations.
i wish i could stop talking about sleep but i'm afraid being awake is too daunting
last night i had this dream again. the dream.
a universe of its own, both static and ever changing
me, twirling around like a lost character in a computer game, a lucid marionette
sharks are such beautiful beasts don't you think and this time i must have been riding one
and once again i lost track of the enormous white horses somewhere along the way, 
they are the kindest people you will ever meet,
i was sliding faster and faster around in what could only be described as a massive maze hidden in a giant replica of westminster cathedral,
signs of danger everywhere, a shruken river thames.
have you ever had to witness a bobsleigh competition
faster killershark faster and from time to time i appeared invisible, it was unbelievably calming
grown up children in bright green school uniforms and their animated teachers telling them off "this is the river, do not ever go in", but they couldn't possibly see me
emerald blazers, inhabiting every corner of my mind, until i could see my fingernails again
a naked woman covered in oil, cold water made of sand
the body is such an uninteresting vessle, your genitals are babies unborn.
ideas shining bright in diamond light.
medications, proud caretakers of this hibernating soul.
do not ever go in. i make a living out of kiwi flavoured lemonade, sour breathing, i always smell of alcohol,
you're scented like softcore porn, a flickering candle.

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