i’m alone, wrapped in a long coat as the winter wind howls through the forest of city high-rises. the sidewalk has been shoveled and salted but a thin layer of fresh-fallen snow is accumulating nonetheless. my boots are a bit too large and feel as if they dangle when my foot is lifted to take a step.
i have a knit cap pulled down low on my head, flattening my hair, its visor squashed across the top of my glasses as low as possible, pressing them into the bridge of my nose. at least it’s covering the tops of my ears, which got a taste of the wind chill before i tucked them inside it.
i’m waiting for something, i think. someone? maybe not. was i hungry? did i just eat? i can’t place the reason i came outside into the cold. maybe it was just to feel the blizzard. am i interested in experiencing that sort of thing?
was i visiting her? surely not at this hour. it must have been food. or is this memory the conglomeration of a haze of blurred moments, left unrecorded, breezed through as my mind skipped from kiss to kiss. perhaps i am thinking to myself about the hedgehogs. do things that start complex get simpler? or is there no difference?
maybe i was running. or waiting at the traffic light. how many times have i waited, then crossed those fucking streets? i’m patient. but the compartmentalized memories and emotions of the past years feel so foreign and dreamlike that i could convince myself that my mind did indeed fabricate them overnight.
last night i died in a dream again.
the first time, i had been vaporized in an explosion, and then felt myself becoming omniscient, my mind racing with pure energy and understanding, my brain an organic computer not powerful enough to process what had been revealed, and so i woke as my ability to continue creating the dream collapsed.
this time, a woman and i were pulverized by a train as we rested across the track. do you know, i think she had been tied there. i think i arrived without enough time to save her, and so instead i sat down between her and the approaching train and we were both smashed.
my eyes closed on impact, and my last thought and instinct was to reopen them. so open them I did, at least somewhat. i felt a great resistance, an inability to control my muscles. it too so much effort and willpower to even partially open my right eye and scan my surroundings. my left eyelid would not lift. but what i saw showed that i was at home, in my bed, seemingly having just awoken from a strange dream. i gathered the strength to stand up out of bed and begin walking towards the door. my left eye was still unresponsive. suddenly it became apparent that i was still dreaming, and had not actually awoken yet.
when i did awake, it was to a dry throat and a raw feeling within my lungs.
in the city, wrapped in my coat, wrapped by the cold wind, i imagine myself falling to the ground, tasting the concrete, tasting the salt, feeling the snow. being buried by a fresh falling layer and wondering how long i was to wait before i might burst up and brush it off.
did i ease through a fence? did i carry something? it’s so cold. i feel as if i am alone.
ah, to feel alone in such a city.
you might as well just
fly me to the moon
even sub-culture is becoming too mainstream, all these folks with their yellow submarines…. but nothing’s more subversive than just hopping in a submersible and diving away, far away, into the depths, chilling with angler fish, man… the marianas trench is still pretty hip imo