(inspired by a dream of Eros)
Should I tell him? Should I call him from the dream or should I call him over the phone?
His presence fed me limbs with light from between those prison towers. Hanging. Violently. Remember when we laughed as purple turned to gray, suddenly? I yearn to be forgotten in the same way I remembered you. Laughing.
No.
We are all forgotten dreams sometime.
No, well, maybe.
I held on until we became blood swirling in a Petri dish of time. But without my imagination, you were nothing.
Turn me over because I am turning over a new leaf. Turn me over because I am turning into an apple turnover. Turn me over and you die, free to live a life that doesn't interest me.
I sat languishing violently in the yellow blade of the sun. The mystery blade. At the mystery wheel I made up my mind to dance. I smiled and thought, we are all forgotten dreams sometime.
