Friday, September 16, 2011

a lack of #3

And the darkness vibrates, on the streets of death. As the back alleys are monsters. Awaiting in the corners of nowhere. My breathing is inconsistent and the ground is moving slowly. The buildings build up like towers, and the creatures lay sleeping making rustling noises in the corners of my peripheral vision. As the legs rattle, and my mind begins to be fearful of its own imagination. And instantaneously (and with a pool of sweat) i find myself in my house, on the couch with the white noise of the tv humming throughout the living room. And i cant seem to remember how i got here. Or if the alley was in my head or not. So maybe the fear is starting to maybe take over. I get up wash my hands and take a look at myself in the mirror. I guess sometimes dreams could be the death of you. And as i have already found out, life is kind of the same way. I open up the shades in the kitchen and the sun is just starting to make its way above the mountains, and over the clouds. As the light on the microwave says its only about seven in the  morning. I go ahead and make some coffee and turn on the t.v. In this early in the morning there is not too much on. And in the background i can hear the coffee maker gurgle and churn and makes its way up to the filter above. I open up my laptop and make my rounds of boredom an inconsistencies. And the net seems to be a new disease, a false promise of friends of thousands that u never get to likely see. So if you have a hard time making friends in some non reality, what ( if any) good do you have in the real world. After a few cups of coffee and a hour or so of doctor who or what have not, i find i tend to make my way to the outside world. And the sun shines its way through the concrete mountains in a most illuminous way. As the people dress accordingly, showing as much skin as possible. Naked without actually being. And i dont know what quite to do today, and the flowers outside my block are beautiful.

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