2.16.2009
@ 2:36 PM
It must have been autumn. I wrote beautiful stories to frame the beautiful encounter we just had. I wrote for days, smooth pages sucked the life out of my pen, creating meaning out of words. They became alive. The day before was a haze that blurred the cinema through my foggy glasses. When the movie ended was when I began to cry. People left. I sat still. The next moment, I feared the dark shadows under the overpass. Drunk from the overly emotional and delusional mess that was, I feared everything. I sat still, but this time, on the curb. I sat staring at the concrete until it turned yellow from the oncoming headlight of your car. Thanks for picking me up and picking me out- of a crowd. But no one was around to hear the rest of the story.
Then I woke up today in a dark room I used to know so well. The acidic smell of pouring rain, the tapping that it created, the avalanche of its downpour. Somewhere, someone is moving, oblivious to my breathing. The moment was fleeting- I got up. I stepped on the heels of shoes I don't remember wearing last night. The rain is pouring much heavier now and from the heavy drapes a lonely shadow came. One look told me that it was you, coming back for something you had forgotten. I keep my eyes closed, imitating sleep, I hate to see you leave, even if your coming is but a figment of my imagination. I fell asleep and in an hour woke up to a vague and questionable sunrise; the clouds keep me guessing for time. Then an explosion sent my head spinning like a ferris wheel, ferris wheel, ferris wheel. Reality hits hard like a head on collision against rocks...
fictional paragraph copied straight from journal written while I was half-taken by sleep. I have many moments of failed creativity.
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