a million little miracles
standing in a line
laughing at the little man
who chooses not one time.
crowded, there.
elbows and hellos and farewells.
dream
after
dream
after dream
withering
decaying in a flash of images
of people that will never be
and chances that will never be
taken.
encounters
that will never
occur.
again, a new dream
stands up to take his place.
his place,
and the air rushes in
to fill the gap
where the old dream is no longer,
and the new dream has yet to be.
the air rushes in,
closes in,
fills it all in
and when the disappearing dream
declines all else but its own
decay
it blinks.
vanishing into a single point of
light
a frozen face
a
fractured
(smile)
a piece of god
of self
of soul
and when it
blinks
it winks
it darks
and it is gone.
the dream is
worse than dead.
the dream is
worse than gone.
it simply never was.
it simply never was.
the air rushes in
again
always filling in
and the new dream swells with pride.
i
am the dream
that will make
the miracles
and save this man
from the self he
secretly serves.
the new dream opens its eyes.
the air
rushes
out,
grows thin,
breath becoming ragged
before it has even begun.
eyes tear.
drip and run and **** sadness
and water and cloud
at the heat
left behind
in the wake of the evaporating atmosphere.
refusing to gasp or swat at tears,
the dream stands straight and tall.
i
am the dream
that will make
the miracles
and save this
man
from the
self
he secretly serves.
one moment of attention
a second’s worth of will
and the air would be endless and free.
the dream would be endless and free.
before blinking
the first
(and only)
time,
the newborn eyes
swollen, itching
eyes
grow wide in unfeigned horror.
dream after dream
from the footprint under his shoe
to the ****** horizon
of crimson and death and loss
stood screaming.
dream after dream after dream
standing and screaming and
weeping
clamoring to be heard.
a cacophony
so loud
so very ******* loud
his newborn crusting eyes
saw the sound
through the red tint
of sorrow
and loss, the tint
that in mere moments
had become
the only vision he would ever know.
saw the sound
he
saw the sound
so loud
the fragile air
pulsed and scattered, convulsing.
the sound so loud, he saw it
before the sensation
of hearing
occurred.
before hearing
before blinking
but weeping, always,
weeping . . .
he saw the screams of all the dreams
through eyes that leaked decay.
one instant.
one flashbulb spark
second in time
to give this dream
(any dream
any of these dreams
any ******* dream at all)
breath.
one second to pause
to give
one thought
to give
one chance
to give one breath.
to give. to give.
and the air would be endless and free.
the air and the dream,
both endless,
and free.
i am the dream
he chokes,
his eyes burn and
weep,
itch and weep
that will make this man
he cries,
ears ringing
forsaken dreams
******* screaming
crimson and ****** and loud
save the miracles
he secretly serves
he shrieks,
hands clenching
into futile fists,
&