amy sky gray with a bright and bleary blotch, no rain. all i really want to do is dream for a few days, give up my will and find my need. and then, hopefully wake up and find a new intersection between dream and reality, with someone there to christen it for me.
for now, i am using all my energy to distill. maybe next time i will outwit the cycle by using an energy burst to fall asleep.
x your leaving made it hard to slip back into sleep, until i had just decided that i would stay in bed until the house warmed. the warm must have sent me back to my dreams. i awoke with whiskers tickling my nose. i lifted the blanket for him to come inside but he just sniffed and left. there was confusion that the smells of me were there when the smells of you were gone.
the emptiness made me feel as if i had reached the vanishing point. (a point that cats are immune to, of course) i felt as if i should hurry to be wherever it was that everyone had gone. but i showered to get my body warmed, and noticed afterwards that i felt soft in the way that you feel soft, but more superficially, as if i could attain your softness by showering there regularly. skin layers peeling, revealing that beneath jagged surfaces, there are things that remain.
ever dumbening tone the paper: charcoal chamois charcoal chamois. your journey begins on a winter day in London or Beijing. now subtract here and add there, cutting curves for your eyes to follow and rest after the strain of bleary grey.

this time, _I'm_ the one walking past the therapist's office, full of the world. this time someone else emerges from two or three realms deeper, darker--eyes and mind bleary, uncertain what to do with my smile.
birdmad it is only the appearance of the edges that dulls in the haze, they retain the ability to leave their marks.

The thickness of the fog is no buffer from the bite of the sawgrass

green and gold meadow edged in scarlet filigree
Mister Brightside "see my eyes so red..." 050124
what's it to you?
who go