Lovetruckerthe Drip of Day
August 27th 2010 12:37
I was almost home and nearly happy, fulfilled and eager for the next sensation. Friends were everywhere, loved and loving, crowding in on my naked floating body. Colours were bizarre and unkempt; soothing blues and liquid purples, mossy greens and flecks of yellow, all smeared across my city of sleep.
I was a half formed phantom flitting through my own hallucination, desperate for affection and so obdurate. Surely this wasn’t just me snoring in a crazed carnival of wild delight with winsome voices from the past plucking at my heartstrings. And then I was dragged kicking and screaming from my dreaming, from the genius of my unconscious invention.
Peering through gluey eyes at the grey light of dawn dripping from the trees, I could hardly bear myself and yet the day was only seconds old. My dream had been perfect and horrible, a glimpse of love and retribution, unpolluted by the dreary drip of day.
A bird sang plaintive in the wind, a lovely thing. The sun, a golden egg in time’s eternal nest sat smugly in the sky. Worship me it cried and I cried too. Yet another fearsome day evolved for us to win and woo and waste away. When will it all end?
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