I always knew it would come like this. a hallucination. an erect calm, alert. There, telling ‘wake up’—well. I’m erect. I’m awake. Nothing missing.
Tried to look back into the dream to see if anything was missing as if the dream could be taken more besides giving me enough phenomena in shuffling past the point of departure into a new reality held close and for it only to begin; all else could not have helped but fall into line at these sudden-embossed noises, stripped in gold. But was it, tho dear, enough?
Night prior dreamt of all those colors. All it came out as were this in the shedding light. Retrospect. Summary, of things. Lost in too-harsh baritone, returned half-limping in higher keys. I was erect as the figment itself, all running hand along hair, all slight mumble deafening. Image of beach passes mind. Go out naked to kitchen.
Grab milk from jug in FRIDGE.
Do up some loose strays. Little drippy thoughts, wadding up in some ingathered, very vague sensibility. As if to drown it all out eventually, I moved my foot a step further and placed it an angle. Did not think of beaches this time.
Then I went back up stairs to loft to write this—just to make sure if anything was missing but the stain on the midriff on my shirt would do enough mentioning here vaguely to leave shot, mainly, and then began, as in, to recognize I smelled like shit, was still naked, and nothing was.
Hallucination, dream, new context by continuance, exclusion of period of time, or period yet to be. Wrought linkages, here and there. Wrote sad thing. Wrote another sad thing. Brief existential pang. VAPE-PEN is a buddy of mine. VAPE-PEN will never leave. It’s in-between my fingers right now. Yeah. Right.
Muster something more will you?? Dialogue twists my thing into too much a polarity, which it needs, unless you wish to say something exactly different from what you write. In that case write on FRIENDO.