Dreamscape

Kisses from the mouths of best friends.

Or friends removed.

Or middle aged men in bands giving me tattoos.

Stripped out inside, dead weight breathing alive.

But you know what they say,

Do you know what they say? At what point did we lose contact with point A, that perfect vision going forward?

Can't get despair. Can't lose track. Can't unfocus.

Joe and a letter saying how much his book fixed me.

Pete with his infinite possibility.

Frank with his tongue and his hands and ink. A drawn dog that I wished look like mine. But I didn't say something too late. 'Ballin' in a Gothic font on the slate.

Wake up blank. Wake up wide. Wake up cut up inside.

There's a reason we can't access this realm daily. It's like heroine. Sword drawn, charging at it all, making main character maims to make us feel martyred the same. Addictive to the blood-pumping veins.

I want to live the same.