Another Post is up on 365

Hey there! Another post is up on that site of sites, 365 tomorrows. I had an idea that maybe the information flow, when it comes to implants, didn't have to be voluntary all the time. Like maybe a punishment would be to let ALL of the spam through. Plus all the background chatter. Plus, like EVERYTHING else. I know it'd drive me nuts. See what you think.

->CLICK HERE<-


tags

Love Poem

They say that life is nothing but a dream. They say that if you die in your dream, you die in real life.

Your love has turned my dream of falling into a dream of flying.

My tongue is too big, too clumsy, as thick as my heartbeat. It robs me of eloquence in the face of you. You are a dragon breathing fire across me. You are music thudding itself deep into the paint on my walls. Your long fingernails cut slices of me into the soup like a noodle chef in a steam-filled room.

When we are at our loneliest, we are at our most common. That’s why this state, this altered state, feels so special.

This loaned-from-heaven outlook. A state of mind that thrives on thrills and feels alive. Hope is fact and bad people can’t even be comprehended, let alone understood. This is the physical embodiment of music that reminds you of summer and sunsets. I can feel the memories of right now winding their way into my DNA, into chemical chains in my mind that I will come back to over and over again for the rest of my life, running those necklaces through my aging hands like a rosary, helping me keep the faith.

These memories will be proof that life was good once. They will be insurance against the onslaught of age. These memories right here.

It’s enough to touch your hand. It’s enough to hear your voice. It’s enough to simply look at you and feel this changed, halting, freed rush of brilliant new awkwardness shudder through every vein of me. To feel the tendons that hold me together twang with applause for you. To walk through life feeling grateful. Every day, I notice things that you would like and remind myself to remind you.

The impermanence of this is haunting at the edges but I ignore it willfully and with all my strength. The fact that this will fade, (might fade), has to fade, (won’t fade), chases my hope around like an abusive werewolf parent. I close my eyes and tell it to be quiet.

The blinding sun of you takes away all the shadows. Every card is an ace, every dart hits a bullseye, every moment wraps itself around my arteries and shoots pure life into my streaming blood. This is why I’m here, I think to myself.

This is why I’m here.

A dream of flying made real.




tags