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to revive an old dream14 September 2002 - 09:08 i know he is really drugged when he touches me a lot. the closer he gets to unconsciousness, the closer he seems to draw to me. is he is aware of me during those times? i can step back and observe. but not needing each other doesn't need to be so empty. i don't want any kind of crutch anymore, nothing to help me sleep, nothing to keep me awake, nothing to make me more loving, nothing to soften the pain. the mind can't always handle these well-intentioned foreign entities: they take more than they give. just as i found a bride in myself, i must find this energy, this strength, this expansiveness in myself. i must rebuild my empire. there will be books and gardens, cities i've only dreamt of so far, languages with words for everything. there will be a grand and stately waltz, the dancers will rise off the ground. so many dancers, so much love... it hurts to touch the broken pieces. but my hands have memories; the sharp edges show where the ruins fit together. i see a castle in the mist, or a skyscraper: the forms are less shrouded with every second, with every bleeding finger. i hear him breathe, reach for me. in this dust. i take his arm, and we dance one more time, two more times--the forms of what will be loom all around us--i don't know how many more times there will be. i banish foreign entities. he does not. i step to him with my eyes open. i don't know if he will open his eyes, if he can, what he would see. my gaze is locked more every day to the forms, those symbols of a better world that i must breathe life into. |