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[spemo]

staying in bed, i chased a dream. one that i haven't had before, one that offered answers, a reason for this encroaching madness. i sought it eagerly, willing my subconscious to move faster; how i craved it! the closer it came the more it faded, as cruel expectations are wont to do. and as the tone shifted and i realized i would not receive his answer, that it was in fact a dream i've dreamed so many times before--full of my own pleading and admissions, my voice, my thoughts, my memories polluting, blotting, choking out the air--even then i clung to sleep. because it is in earnest that i slowly comb the hedgerows of these labyrinths. i search for bits of un-manicured twig, perhaps an emptied wren's nest--such familiar feelings--to lead me to that point in the dream when he (then he, then he) explains why.

and for once, their eyes will be downcast instead of mine.