The Brave Understatement
WHEN YOU WAKE FROM A DREAM YOU MUST SUFFER THE INTOLERABLE SILENCE.
I don't believe that anyone dreams in black and white. Or without sound - in my dreams the sound is never tangible; that is, I know it is coming from a space within a void like behind the complicated circuit board in the television set. If the dream is awful you wake up and your head is thrashing thickly. If the dream is awful and you wake up, you are breathing regularly and with heartbeating in little pink pumps you come to realise that you are safe (safely inside in) and the circumstance fades beneath coldly fades away. Like black water - you would not grasp at that, and why?
But when the dream is good you think sadly. I am sorry it couldn't have been like that. I am sorry that him/her I could not be clenched between, feeling their tiny bursts of breath, under a bizarre midafternoon sun in the north east. In the best dreams, I am always with other people. Which is something to suck on I suppose. Oh, God, I am afraid that I have lost that place in my head where I've so many times hidden I'm so afraid it can never be found.
Everyone I see now smells like copper and looks like red nail polish smeared on a vodka bottle.
I don't believe that anyone dreams in black and white. Or without sound - in my dreams the sound is never tangible; that is, I know it is coming from a space within a void like behind the complicated circuit board in the television set. If the dream is awful you wake up and your head is thrashing thickly. If the dream is awful and you wake up, you are breathing regularly and with heartbeating in little pink pumps you come to realise that you are safe (safely inside in) and the circumstance fades beneath coldly fades away. Like black water - you would not grasp at that, and why?
But when the dream is good you think sadly. I am sorry it couldn't have been like that. I am sorry that him/her I could not be clenched between, feeling their tiny bursts of breath, under a bizarre midafternoon sun in the north east. In the best dreams, I am always with other people. Which is something to suck on I suppose. Oh, God, I am afraid that I have lost that place in my head where I've so many times hidden I'm so afraid it can never be found.
Everyone I see now smells like copper and looks like red nail polish smeared on a vodka bottle.