ice cartilage.
my nose hurts. i'm not hungry anymore, but i want taste in my mouth.
something dripping and succulent.
bursting molten gold and sugary sweet rainbows.
i want a taste of something.
be it anything.
and the sullen girl wants the oceans to remove her. make her flow.
the lines between her heart and her limbs were taken over
and stifled. but the special k let's her pretend they're moving.
or at least makes a path of dreams to see it through.
the numbness of her meat makes her feel real.
it bridges the gap between fantasy and reality.
the sandman dripped particles between her fingers so she could walk into the dreaming
at least not alone.
did you know the fear was so strong that she broke through the barrier
and pulled someone through once before?
it takes a certain kind of hysteria to do that. i think.
looking up from your sleep and seeing the shelves of humans seeping through the dreaming
unaware. untold. without fear.
she wants to be restful like them when they close their eyes. they can pretend it's not real.
she can't pretend, so the sandman holds her hand. constantly trying to push her in.
so she turns to him and says, "how can you let me into that madness, when i know if i die in there, i'll never come back?"
"you're not supposed to die." he says, "death is certain. the dreaming wasn't made for certainties. it's neither black, nor white. it's fluid as the snow pouring between your hands.," he paused,
"these particles are for those who fear the dreaming. who fear they might not be part of it as everyone else is. you've seen it before, you know how your soul bleeds into those next to you with the glow of northern lights. there's nothing to fear. we are made of each other,
we are stardust. and we are eternal. we know you."
he breathed into my ear, "let yourself come home."
something dripping and succulent.
bursting molten gold and sugary sweet rainbows.
i want a taste of something.
be it anything.
and the sullen girl wants the oceans to remove her. make her flow.
the lines between her heart and her limbs were taken over
and stifled. but the special k let's her pretend they're moving.
or at least makes a path of dreams to see it through.
the numbness of her meat makes her feel real.
it bridges the gap between fantasy and reality.
the sandman dripped particles between her fingers so she could walk into the dreaming
at least not alone.
did you know the fear was so strong that she broke through the barrier
and pulled someone through once before?
it takes a certain kind of hysteria to do that. i think.
looking up from your sleep and seeing the shelves of humans seeping through the dreaming
unaware. untold. without fear.
she wants to be restful like them when they close their eyes. they can pretend it's not real.
she can't pretend, so the sandman holds her hand. constantly trying to push her in.
so she turns to him and says, "how can you let me into that madness, when i know if i die in there, i'll never come back?"
"you're not supposed to die." he says, "death is certain. the dreaming wasn't made for certainties. it's neither black, nor white. it's fluid as the snow pouring between your hands.," he paused,
"these particles are for those who fear the dreaming. who fear they might not be part of it as everyone else is. you've seen it before, you know how your soul bleeds into those next to you with the glow of northern lights. there's nothing to fear. we are made of each other,
we are stardust. and we are eternal. we know you."
he breathed into my ear, "let yourself come home."