my cat loves watching cigarette smoke
in the night,
while i love watching clouds,
but what consecrated us
      within a similitude
was:
   being brought into this world,
finding humanity, fast asleep,
   if not in the least: lost to sleep,
as if they were beyond medical
attention, comparing dreams
   to automations of imagination,
imagination become rampant;
for why would dreams be a mystery,
is they are only un-inhibited
representations of imagination?
why do dreams deserve a respect
to be treated as something mysterious,
when they are nothing but robotic
forms of imagination?
   robotic? yes, in terms of being
lawless...
    beyond conscious control...
there is nothing mythical, nothing
freud-orthodox about them...
       they are rampant imaginings
that never tread the path toward
fruition... it's not that they are
repressions...
              they are natural inhibitors
of what day-dreams are...
                            the real inhibitors...
let's talk about enzymes...
there is no worth interpreting dreams,
unless you're poised to craft
a trade with your *******...
           dreams = inhibited imaginings,
infectious, when the mind
is at "rest", posit coordinate 0,
which sleep ought to be...
             a denial of all conscious
activity... dreams are, ergo,
comparable to *******,
   i.e. a self-****...
                             it is better to treat
dreams as an omni-nonsense
   than a labyrinth with a minotaur...
i hate dreams...
           for what's it worth
i also don't believe in the western
diatribe of
   a subject-object dichotomy,
let alone a dualism...
to me dreams are akin to any other
virus infection...
                  esp. when people note
having recurrent dreams...
             i came into this world
and found humanity fast asleep...
  toward not asking,
but nonetheless writing this,
i asked for one "virtue"
and one "virtue" alone...
                 please, bar my infectious
capacity to dream...
          since then,
all my dreams have become nonsense,
for how can i trap light
     and then create a cinema
from exposure to this light,
in my sleep?
                       i appreciate
that i can stare into a light-glorifying
orb, and then see a geometric form
x-rayed onto a blank slate of focus...
but the complexity of dreams...
the narratives...
              there really isn't an
interpretation of dreams,
        to be a disciple of freud...
                      unless you have a lot of
time to waste and be bound to be
looking up your own ****...
                  to me dreams are
            like a sun within a black-hole...
there's light coming from the ultimate
recess...
    dreams are like the rebirth of a star...
light from the most hidden
    darkness,
         that is bound to originate in sleep...
i simply find dreams exhausting,
and too juxtaposed, to find a worthy
narrative, and subsequent interpretation;
at loss, to begin with,
   if ever to begin with,
         should genesis = zenith,
  if not, given the expression
                and regressive attitude
                          it not be: genesis = nadir.