a night of sleepless dreams...
do you ever wish you could slice of that tiny part of your heart that holds on to emotions that you simply no longer want or need, and sew on a prosthetic with new, or devoid of, emoitions?
i woke up this muted and foggy san francisco morning hot at the core with a sweaty and dizzy head wondering if i had even slept at all: a little more than half relief and a little less than half heartbreak. who wants sleep with these dreams? who needs it? i'd rather a cool blackness, blocking out the shaking of the street car under the neon sign outside my window, instead of manipulating the movement into soporific earthquakes: a slight pivot in the course of my life years ago, evident to only one other person. scenes, like a slideshow of 'like a sister', bites on my neck from some anonymous brit-club boy with bad hair reminding me in flesh-tone makeup to forget you, baileys in my cereal on foreign soil: we're out of milk and who cares anyhow because it's 3am and you're calling. and you,l you don't know the half of it, these things that have passed. and scenes of you with her, both calling me friend. ridiculous: this is something, i know, my crazy subconscious loves to torture me with leaving a vomit taste in my mouth upon waking and don't you hate it? fear of losing everything i've made in the wake of that pivot in our time to that little piece of my heart that i only wish would go away again.
last night before i slept i almost, again, regretted ever leaving; now this morning, I regret, again, ever coming back.
thank god i refuse to settle.
i woke up this muted and foggy san francisco morning hot at the core with a sweaty and dizzy head wondering if i had even slept at all: a little more than half relief and a little less than half heartbreak. who wants sleep with these dreams? who needs it? i'd rather a cool blackness, blocking out the shaking of the street car under the neon sign outside my window, instead of manipulating the movement into soporific earthquakes: a slight pivot in the course of my life years ago, evident to only one other person. scenes, like a slideshow of 'like a sister', bites on my neck from some anonymous brit-club boy with bad hair reminding me in flesh-tone makeup to forget you, baileys in my cereal on foreign soil: we're out of milk and who cares anyhow because it's 3am and you're calling. and you,l you don't know the half of it, these things that have passed. and scenes of you with her, both calling me friend. ridiculous: this is something, i know, my crazy subconscious loves to torture me with leaving a vomit taste in my mouth upon waking and don't you hate it? fear of losing everything i've made in the wake of that pivot in our time to that little piece of my heart that i only wish would go away again.
last night before i slept i almost, again, regretted ever leaving; now this morning, I regret, again, ever coming back.
thank god i refuse to settle.