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.