It started with a dream, a thousand eyes surrounding me.
Now they’re part of the permanent daydream.
Drenched in disdain from behind the dime store shelf,
Heavy lidded and high as I drive.
I can feel them on me, even now.
Sitting at my desk, drowning Bailey’s in coffee
They stick to my legs, crawl between my toes.
How’d they get in my shoes?
I can feel them, eyelashes stroking the hairs
Serenading down my hands,
They even exist alone in the air.
How do I survive
With a thousand eyes?
I’m choking on every real life daydream;
Every fairytale, happily ever after ending.
Smoke from a fire obscuring reality,
Lit from the day we were born into this commonality.
No wonder we drug rust laden nails at each others throats,
What more was there to believe in
When the magic we were fed was all smoke screens and jokes.
I tiptoe the line
Between the ever converging
Gold and brown of your eye.
I balance so fine
On the hair pin moments
Of raised voices and tender kisses.
One day I’ll swan dive
Into the crushing distinctions,
Bringing reality rushing over daydreams.
For now …
I dance the edge of a dime,
Spinning through scenes
Painted like oil slicks on my mind.
Sometimes I find myself lost
In the corners of the mind;
The deepest recesses of time.
Wandering far and wide;
Fields of glass
And rows of bouncing lights
Ricocheting from galaxies.
It’s always night,
The rain is always cold
And I’m always alone
With only a shadow to call home.
I haven’t dug into my “classic writings” file in a while. Here’s one that kind of fits the prompt for the day. I don’t remember when I wrote this, for an idea of how old it is, I remember that it started as a myspace journal thing *woah*
Sometimes I get goosebumps and something sets me on edge. Something throws me into a daydream, a vivid moving picture that flashes through my mind time and time again. A thought, a vision, almost as if it were from a life already lived and I find myself scribbling page after page trying to capture this one vision, this one moment where I’m pushed into another time. Other times the image comes and goes, a flash of lightening that leaves only a frightened impression. What could have been. A shadow on the wall when you know you’re alone, then it’s gone, but it’s enough.
I’m trapped in a daydream now. Entangled. Involved. Yet it’s slipping away because I can not put it into words. The vision stays there, perfectly preserved, dead and frozen, yet I can’t describe what I see. I can’t say what I feel.
Everything is a diary into your mind, and this an entry better left untouched.