Thursday, July 30

Dreams, reality.

Woke up from that nightmare again
She was there, I followed her
Through endless rooms with
Scary closets full of boated bodies
And jars of marbles and greywashed
Memories again. We got outside,
I got my breath again
The hills and the sun and the sense
That I might escape to any side
Grew and died again, as I knew that
Any direction would lead me back
And even bad people thought they
Were doing good.
Someone stole everything I had,
Even my pet snake, which I found
Pickled in a jar older than I was.
I'm trying to spark this off fresh
Before it fades, but it was faded
Inside that world, every bookstore
Was the standard bookstore, like some
Prop from a high school play, and my
Highschool friends played all the parts,
The movie theater guard, the girl with
Too much makeup on, the square headed
Guys who laughed, and retreated
Effortlessly when I attempted retaliation.
I tried every road out, she was incapable
Of being avoided or of being loved.
I played ping pong with different values
Of gravity, different waves and cadences
Of time, and lost every time, seemingly
Before my paddle was even ready. I was
Wading in murky water full of the skulls
Of animals and things.
And it was as though someone had
Turned up all the greys and the greens
And the oyster-colors in my dream.
By then I knew it was a dream.
So I tried the usual tricks to trick
The dream, but I couldn't walk across
The dead lake. I couldn't fly over the
Table-topped hill. I could barely hover;
Even then she was unimpressed. And you
Were always there in thought and judgment
If not always in sight. And contradicted
Everything I was about to say, or think,
Or feel, or do. And I still
Hate you for what you are deep inside.


I am a raging sore on the Universe
Contracted when it bumped branes with another
We instantly liked then detested each other
I have no father and no mother
I am the living, breathing stagnation
Of a cold black and cruel Universe
I am the fount of eternal black light
Within my depths roar supermassive holes
That create and destroy, a yang and yin,
Brahma and Shiva, Isis and Osiris, Joshua and Lucifer,
Light and dark, Manwë and Melkor, love and hate,
And it's all been blended into a stably
Entropic, forever-grey. I was born this way,
For I was never truly born. I bubbled into existence
At the dawn of time, and space was created, and my
Face is made of the thousands of crying souls
Which natural selection whipped into the
Ever joyful, ever suffering menagerie of Life.


Igor said...

Me likes those. Maaftaa. :)

Metamatician said...

Thank you, Igor. I will only whip you seventeen times tonight for the nice thing you've said.

Katbili said...

What can I say? simply brilliant. thanx for sharing

Metamatician said...

Thank you Kat. Hope you're doing well in Greece, or Austria, or back in the UK, or wherever you happen to currently be!

Archived Posts

Search The Meta-Plane