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It was just past midnight when he fell asleep
which was impressively late considering how much whiskey he had consumed.
The dream began with her,
because, honestly, a bad dream wouldn't be complete
without her in it.
They sat on a vast lake in a small boat
with the moonlight blessing them
for the first time in a long while.

I believe that the two were happy
but despite this fallacy
he still wasn't aware that he was dreaming.

As they laughed
a spider came crawling into the boat.
He was too starled to wonder how it followed them into the water,
andas it's feet scuttered and his stomach guttered
the girl muttered "**** it, please, **** it."
But when he extended his fingers to do the deed
the spider turned to reveal
a bloodshot eye in the center of it's black back.
It's pupil was an hourglass, and time was running out.

So disturbed now from the specter that his fingers wavered
and the widow-maker pounced, biting first his finger
then his wrist, then his heart.

He fell from the boat.
The spider disappeared into blackness.
After a few minutes of breathless panic
he emerged at the shallow end of the swimming pool
that must have been there all along.

She was on dry land
and in his panic he didn't bother to question
how she made it to safety without him
with such ease
why she didn't bother to help
or why she didn't seem too alarmed
at the fact that he was now dying.

He was now only a few steps away from a large crowd,
I think he said something to her

So here was the task of seeking help
in a faceless mass of people
who also didn't seem the slightest bit concerned
over the fact
that venom was coursing through his veins
and dread was settling deep into his heart.

He searched for someone to drive him
to a hospital or a bed
or even just to watch him die so long as they'd sit and pretend to care
over the fact that he would no longer exist.
He realized that she could be that person,
wondered why he hadn't thought of her in the first place.
He turned around to find her but she was gone.

Maybe she was offended that he hadn't thought of her sooner
in his time of dying, maybe she, too, didn't see much seriousness
in his now worsening condition.

His steps grew heavier,
the eyes were losing focus.

Searching the faces looking for her,
she was either gone
or had melted into to the solidarity that seemed to loathe him so much.
They were all faceless, hostile,
avoiding him like the plague
or grabbing at him like a villain.
One man punched his teeth so forcefully
that his jaw no longer opened,
(but in all reality he was probably just
grinding his teeth in his sleep,
but the venom was sinking deeper
and he could not wake up.)

He ran, no one would help him so he ran.
There was his car,
there were his keys.
There were his shaking hands
and his fading vision
and apparently someone else was in the passenger seat
telling him that he was too ****** up to drive
someone who failed to see the distinction between alcohol
and venom but even still he drove because this person was no friend
not even a person
he never saw his face while his heart pounded
and the words slurred together
and she was not there but now was no time to think of her
and the hourglass was running out and he knew it
embarrassing tears dripped as the engine roared and his eyes darkened
the landscape all blended together i don't thinkhis mind could
dream things up quickly enough as he sped by
which might eexplain why he suddenly was standing in the desert
the car was gone the faces were gone
and he thhought "might as well have a last cigarette before i ******* die"

his hands didn't work and he couldn't grab the lighter
even if he could his mouth was still clamped shut
couldn't yell for help even if people would care
the crowd was back they were all yelling something
but it was no matter now light was leaving and no one seemed too concerned
she was gone and i'm not sure she ever was

thus he faded away without anyone to look him in the eye
and agree with him that something terrible was happening to him

The world grew black.
The stars went dim.
His heart hurt.
Their laughter faded
and he died alone.

And so I awoke to live my day
with this dream deep in my mind.
Alive to live another day,
with venom in my veins
and darkness in my heart
that no one seems to notice
or care about.
SEASON
TIME OF THOUGHT:08:20PM
DATE OF THhOUGHT:08/03/2010
OGUNLBI OLAJIDE YUSUF -Nativepen

I will not be moved
If the rain refuses to fall
I will not be moved
Even, if the sun refuses to shine

If the moon remains dark and red
I will not be moved
If the breez turns to a statue
I say I will not be moved

I will not  be moved
All because, they are for the main time
I say I will not be moved
It is a matter of time
I crave quiet more than palest sinners
Do their peace of absolution and lift
Toward tolerable circumstance wherein
Green fields flowing beneath warm winds
Play a simple, serene music.

I pray in the gray throng’s heralding din
This drowning siren die away and leave
Faint thhought to famish, feign, or forge beyond
Splitting bone and aching sight in face of
Plain, revolving day’s hissing tread of night.

I lay subtle or naked by degree.
The myth of common speech harbors the vague
Extremity, solidly-stateed airs,
Whims of purchase, the purchases of whim,
All paid with the natio0n’s prismatic mirror.

Then say this man, a spawn of time, should feel
Abrupt and free? Even to imagine
Will-tuned guitars flourishing and dancers
Sweeping across a mosaic of red tile
Inlaid upon the wrecked and shattered ground?
composed around 1990

— The End —