I write about dreams a lot.

tied

I have reasons that will suffer me
I have an orange tie round my hair
My eyes are growing weeds
And in my dreams your limbs extend like branches
Where clothes fall off like leaves, welcomed by the ground
You smile down at me with the most beautiful blooming eyes

I saw you today as a stranger
Our stale glance rendered no reason
No reasons, just vacant suffering

I have an orange tie round my hair

gaspless

I have dreams where my leather books crack up and dry
Gasplessly, I watch as bits fall to the ground
to blend in with the dirt
My legs stand exposed to the sun
and to you

and then I sleep

balance

Do you ever get that feeling that you are dreaming when you're awake? You could be doing something that requires at least some level of concentration, but all you see is what you're mind is making up. In any case today I was mopping the tile in my room when that happened. I could hear girls scuttling in the rooms nearby but it wasn't hard to tune them out. I continued pushing the mop in a linear motion, glossing over the unswept floor, leaving patches of hair and lint and dirt behind. It would have been smarter to sweep first but I don't own a broom and who really cares after all. I picked up the visible remnants of filth and stuck a palmful into the nearby trash. The sun was shining in through the window like a golden pool and I just wanted to jump in and stay there. I knew that right on the other side of the glass it was cold and still snowing and that all the warm was just an illusion. That's the thing about illusions though, most of the time they are very comfortable.

Anyways, the heat that came in through the glass reminded me of my dog, Buddy. I started to picture in my mind, as if I were dreaming it, how at home in the afternoons I would find Buddy on the stairs near our front door, laying in the beams of sun that melted into our carpet like wax. Occasionally I would curl up next to him and scratch his neck for what felt like hours or until my arms broke out into a rash. (I was slightly allergic) When the sun had passed around the corner my Mom would shut the door and Buddy would pace around the house restlessly until someone let him out. As if beyond that recently closed door the sun was waiting for him - waiting for him to jump back into it. Or perhaps he just really had to piss. I'd let him outside though, and once there in our bleak yard, he'd run around in circles, through our electric fence searching for the sun but all he found was darkness. Sometimes a squirrel or a car, but nothing compared to the contentment he found in that sun. The next days or years the sun was always there again melting onto the carpet. Sometimes I would skip right up the steps passing him, but it phased neither of us. Because by nightfall, he'd be out once again, barking or howling at the sky and all he found was the moon. Even he knew that the moon is just a semblance of the sun.

Now he is dead. Buried in the backyard underneath the soggy soil. And each morning the sun rises and he can feel its warmth underground, and he is still happy. I hope he is. And we'll both dream again that this time I stopped to curl up next to him and scratch his neck, because it meant we were both existing. And next time the sun shines through my window I'll dive right into it because it's illusion is enough for me, and it was enough for Buddy. And you bet when the sun disappears tomorrow or next year that I'll keep searching for it night after night until I find something. Whether it's just the warmth I feel by this window or the cold reality beyond it's frame.