there, in those strawberry fields of dreaming-
those blooms of a season long since dead and torched-
i swore i found you
and you were speaking sweetly in a smokey room
with a crescent smile
and a cheap long-neck bottle
and a blue ball-point pen
that you'd only pry from it's waltzing
to chuckle with (and charm) the bartender
an older lady
with muddy-water curls
and poision ivy eyes
and...there's something about her that reminds me of my mom...
then the moment's gone
and now, all i can wonder
is how it is that she's counting change when she hasn't got any fingers
the captain must be on the mic again
with ******** banter about the weather
or our eventual destination
or something about the turbulence to calm the unfortunate un-drugged
his monotone monotony
sneaking through my sleep to me
and coming through like the voice of the radio host
as my head's beneath tepid bathwater
your ellegance uneffected by his audible intrusion
into my sub-concious dellusion
you pull at the tides of your brew
and wink
then back to a busy pen
i have to get to you
you've got to remember
come back
but dreams don't work like that
it's as if my feet don't match my body
or my legs are facing backward
or i'm in that godforsaken hallway scene of "The Shining"
and i'm finding this to be far more frustrating
than remaining concious through the flight could have ever been
and again
somewhere over nebraska
the ride gets increasingly shaky
not obnoxious enough to wake me
just enough to take me to the part of the nightmare
where my teeth start falling out
like precious little gems of vicodin and nicorrette
t a p p i n g out my fragile skull
and now i'm wearing some bloody-gummed grin
and that charming lounge is feeling like "From Dusk Till Dawn"
and all of the friendly faces are gone
except for yours
and you look horrified
how come now i've got your attention?
touchdown at o'hare
and i wake in the window seat next to a vacant chair
alive and well
except that you're not there
and to think
when i was a kid
my nightmares all had fearsome beasts
then i grew up
and found the monster to be me
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
there, in those strawberry fields of dreaming-
those blooms of a season long since dead and torched-
i swore i found you
and you were speaking sweetly in a smokey room
with a crescent smile
and a cheap long-neck bottle
and a blue ball-point pen
that you'd only pry from it's waltzing
to chuckle with (and charm) the bartender
an older lady
with muddy-water curls
and poision ivy eyes
and...there's something about her that reminds me of my mom...
then the moment's gone
and now, all i can wonder
is how it is that she's counting change when she hasn't got any fingers
the captain must be on the mic again
with ******** banter about the weather
or our eventual destination
or something about the turbulence to calm the unfortunate un-drugged
his monotone monotony
sneaking through my sleep to me
and coming through like the voice of the radio host
as my head's beneath tepid bathwater
your ellegance uneffected by his audible intrusion
into my sub-concious dellusion
you pull at the tides of your brew
and wink
then back to a busy pen
i have to get to you
you've got to remember
come back
but dreams don't work like that
it's as if my feet don't match my body
or my legs are facing backward
or i'm in that godforsaken hallway scene of "The Shining"
and i'm finding this to be far more frustrating
than remaining concious through the flight could have ever been
and again
somewhere over nebraska
the ride gets increasingly shaky
not obnoxious enough to wake me
just enough to take me to the part of the nightmare
where my teeth start falling out
like precious little gems of vicodin and nicorrette
t a p p i n g out my fragile skull
and now i'm wearing some bloody-gummed grin
and that charming lounge is feeling like "From Dusk Till Dawn"
and all of the friendly faces are gone
except for yours
and you look horrified
how come now i've got your attention?
touchdown at o'hare
and i wake in the window seat next to a vacant chair
alive and well
except that you're not there
and to think
when i was a kid
my nightmares all had fearsome beasts
then i grew up
and found the monster to be me
**** you, airport bars
and big black cars
who drive the kindest men
into the heart of hell
