It
was all red, in my dream. It’s stained my waking eyes.
Whenever
I find the time to sleep, I’m home. The miles mean nothing, it’s the years that
do. Months and days and hours and minutes and seconds. My father tells me
dreams are rarely more than four seconds long. You never believed him. In my
dream, I am not myself. I am too old, too cold. I am about to crumble into
nothing. You are holding me together.
It’s
the field by the river. I’ve never seen it so bright. Everyone with me has
brought a torch. I keep trying to count them. I’m almost there, but I can never
do it. Not enough. There is one word on their lips. I just about hear them. Goodbye.
This
is my funeral, and it’s the colour of blood.
When
I look up, I can’t see any of the lights. It’s black, but the more my eyes, that
only want to close, adjust the bloodstains reveal themselves. I look down. It’s
under my skin. None of it mine. I’m not human enough. I was once. But I am old
in this dream.
It’s
coming up behind me. Now that I know where I am, I have stopped caring. You are
not here, does that mean I have failed you? I look. It’s made of scribbles of
ink. I’d recognise the marks, only done by a shaking hand, anywhere. I’m awake
already.
Ever
since I can’t stop think I’ve passed the halfway point. When I used to read,
I’d get so upset that I was closer to the end. I think that’s still true.
…
There
are many types of homes. They can be arranged, one after another. The more
alive, the less time we have. The closest we’ve gotten to stopping was when we
the last two souls on Earth.
Our
only God is our mother’s last words. The last words we remember (there is too
much shame in admitting that she is disappearing).
This
is the road trip. Six months, three months, six weeks, three weeks, nine days-
that’s ruined the pattern- a long weekend, an overnight stay. It gets smaller,
it never goes away. Some things don’t. Ever. Even after everything else is
dead.
We
can’t die.
What
about a misstep? One word too many? One word not enough? Therefore, we count
the seconds, we cannot afford to slip up-
We
are unable to die. It is blasphemy.
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