Tag: dream

Pearl eats Oyster

The wex of supplication

The hex of self-sacrifice.

An aloe juice applied.

A smoked cigarette.

for supplication

of abasement.

⊙

Simplicity may dissolve into

a unity of psychic diversity.

Four bases produce

endless genotypes producing

infinite phenotypes.

The nature of nurture or lack thereof.

The art of service:

The difference between

I’m happy to help.

&

I’m glad to help.

Private humility

Laughing in the darkness of that which gifts you discomfort.

Where strangers are seldom seen.

⊙

I make circles. Keep up with my eyes.

Let it all be a tactical, tactile trick.

Kind brats of men move my pen.

See and know. Bathe with and clean.

Tepid water tested by toes while the ewer of a

faucet head drips.

⊙

Wake from a lucid dream into sleep paralysis at a touch of skin.

Churlish obstinacy and insubordination.

An affixed clothe-spin stinging like an inability to articulate.

A sheet hanging until until no longer wet.

The silence of the narcissist to the empath.

The empathic, giggling punishment of a narcissist.

A fretted string strung too tightly,

coiled to snap like a cobra.

A mouse that

turns out

to be a mongoose.

The extension of legs when moving from flat footed

to en pointe.

A swan taking flight.

A hunter knowing a swan strays not too far from its pond.

The thrill and repulsion of an irregular pearl who consumes

and swallows the oyster muscle.

.

Dream of a Watery Cavern

It was a sub terrain keystone cavern of cathedral proportions, carved out from the processes of semi-precious, conductive mineral excavations.

I dreamt I lived underwater, there,

in a little house on the floor of

the Sound,

it was filled with water.

It rained heavy droplets of oxygen,

pattering on the tin roof.

I drop my pen, it slowly floats downwards.

You catch it with your mouth, before it reaches the ground.

Your eyes look up at mine with pride.

I see you shiver.

I silently say: Come and let’s lie down together; you on your back.

I wrap my legs around you, and

slide my thighs and calves against yours,

rubbing limbs like how crickets sing,

until you are warm.

Satisfied sighs bubble from your lips.

You keep shivering well after becoming warm.

Æ whispering to Parçigal

You want me to write right now, right?: I ask.

Yes: he says.

Well, I want you to stay hard; and I want to talk to Maplethorpe. So…you win because I am tip tapping. Here’s my hangup. These housemates of mine are always here. In the living room. I am trying to read/-a-just to being around people. Where can /I/ make My noises? Where do /i/ do my movements? Their energy is perceived by me as invasive. Encroachment on my energy. They feel like hungry animals. I let it oppress me because all my energy is focused on not regressing. I think I have achieved this ability, to not let myself regress. I now move to the next challenge of not having my energy allowed to be oppressed. Because this feeling is what leads me to want a beer. Taking drugs is taking sacrament to me. Purposed and not medicine. I am now able to recognize when I drink to sedate and when I drink to take sacrament. This is step one. I move to the two step now. Giggle [cuz giggle is the way I get by, {h/owl} ].

I gave everything to my metaphysical considerations because why the h/owl else do we keep on keeping on? I found treasure so I try to be patient with myself as i face the consequences. Even if I had found nothing, I would be patient with myself. But, reliance on the others in my life seems more for their peace of mind. But, such a statement is on me. I wilt figure out how to make manifest the opportunities available to me.

And, you need to buy shoelaces, so you can walk more: he kindly whispers.

Thank you. The difference between a chastisement and a kindly reminder.: I say: I must like you.: I say in honest exhalation.

Have you eaten?: he asks.

Kind. No. Only beer. I am not hungry; but I want to eat. What do you make of that?: I ask.

Oh, just like the good old days. I know what you mean.: he says but guesses.

Thank you for telling me what you think about that which you do not know: I groan, wet now: ewe make me smile. I wilt reward you for this, in my way.

(My eyebrow arches; because I like it when you say:

She cums.)

What if this is all one, big lucid dreaming experiment?: I conjecture, in fantasy.

What does that mean?: he quietly, quite justly asks.

Good question. Ask me again in a day and I can say it better. Rumination.: I say.

You said you could tell me about one of your three triple embodiment experiences.: he reminded.

I can do that. Be patient. I have been virgin, mother, and crone in body and mind between the last five years. Virgin to the sulky, sociopath, mother to the recovering addict, (I re enlivened him thru his will), then I became single and rekindled by the other one. I gained 60 lbs as mother, but have not ever become pregnant. I lost 60 becumming virgin, Artemis, despite having slept with men. I am the she Archer and some hunters chose to fall with me.

I thought you were Parçigal: he says.

I am many things and my head hurts: I say.

You drank two pints: he replies.

Uh hum, huh. Water. Hummus. A ham sandwich with mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomatoes.

Dream of vulpes vulpes & serpent

I dreamt I was a sweet, sly serpent.

I wrapped myself around you, into a möbius strip.

Eating my own tail.

Skin ceaselessly shifting

and sliding against yours.

We wrestled playfully in the numina of everywhere and

know-where.

Your face flowed like magma, between two appearances: the face of a man burning into that of the red fox.

My infinite sliding scale skin tethered your temporary

states of flux.

Entropic Redirection

This entoptic perspective we are individually bound to

drives me wild,

then feral.

These entotic sounds and whispers arouse.

Your hints and secrets spur.

I wear the stripe of an island.

Heraldry.

An entropic endeavor.

My vizard is my visage.

And with a double V.

VV.

I derive double ewe.

Ewer a W, you.

And, from my mask a

wizard re-enlivens.

A ghost ship at full clip

Fighting-as-discipline haunts me with every new face I meet. (Invariably they are black belts, INK’D athletes, ex MMA fighters, etc.)

Cannily uncanny. It may be inspiring my clip this morning. I certainly find the trend personally inspiring. The same way the numbers 93, 13, 11, and 777 hook my attention. Do I see them at every turn because they occur in a disproportionate amount or do my expectations simply enliven significance?

My feet carry my brain to work, propelled as though by the will of something outside of my conscious thought.

I walk too fast. I don’t know why. Mind still foggy from tying one on with the family last night.

Damn. I can barely keep up with my own pace.: I think, walking.

Click, click.

Click, click.

Quick.

Oh well, the energy required to change my momentum seems more consuming than just continuing to walk along, too fast.

It is a grey sky morning.

Have I actually woken up?

°

The sun finally arrives and beats the cloud cover into smashed splinters. It makes the day seem real. I feel my heart finally kick start, keeping rhythm with the coffee coursing through my system.

Howllelujah.: says the newly given up ghost,

in a whisper of surrender to this new day.

Tight Lungs

I saw your raven’s claw hit the mark too squarely.

The clip of the talon’s clasp.

Snatching telephone cable as I watch three lightning storms

consume the sound.

Thunder.

I do not buy nonchalance

anymore than I am willing to eat soft words when

my eyes go hard.

Uncanny does not always equal canny.

Ariadne now knows how to lucid dream.

A hand poised, around a throat from which

“take my breath away” is whispered with

an accompanying half grin.

Physicsical Moaning

I smile: I am pleased you like the work, but not particularly interested in why.

You liked how it felt.

Instead, tell me about the last dream you had while sleeping?

Did you like how it made you feel?

⊙

I dreamt a record store called All ‘N Analog. It was no analogue.

And,

What if it turned out that Paul Revere was just a Boy who cried Wolf?

Let’s incorporate.

A stem [becomes]

steAm.
Repetition of action is

not repeating oneself;

though, care must be taken, of course, so you

don’t repeat yourself;

but, sometimes I love it when

you repeat yourself

(or ask me questions, the answers to which you believe you already know.)

⊙

Self-awareness of ignorance can nearly

overcome it.
Just don’t over-commit.

You will, still, scratch that itching nose with a finger, whether you are aware you do so,

or not.

⊙

You skate on a bead of water produced from the ice you melted as the blade of your skate skirted over it.

You have not cut the ice.

Boiling point is dependent upon the local atmospheric pressure, sweet thing.

Are you at an elevation of simple sea level?

The triple point of water.

A bathtub producing water, ice, and steAm from its faucet head.

All states

existing simultaneously; and, at the same time,

the ultraviolet exposure at my atmospheric level, fries, while I watched the sun rise

from my spectacular, secularly sacred space.

Dream of rueing.

Your name is Ruin?: I ask.

No. RueAnne: she replies.

Why did you bring me back here?: I wonder.

I didn’t mean to: I hear her say.

She does not realize that she said this.

I nod anyway.

Certain geographies don’t agree with dream me.

This place rubs me wrong.

Edgy.

RueAnne is staring into nothing.

Her energy has been summoned.

She just lost herself again: I think.

A goat ambles by.

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