Monday, February 20, 2012

dreaming each others life

as he sleeps he dreams of her life...a life of travel and art and passion for women...a life of deaths and disasters and rejection...she has sacred moments...lost moments...and moments sublime...he dreams of her torments and lonely hours...he dreams of her hunger to be held close...he sees her sit with her cup of coffee at dawn...he sees her sit in the dark and cry...on he dreams of her until he wakes as she falls asleep to dream his life....
he is english and meek but kind...he cares for his mother and stays close by her side...he is a romantic...he walks with an ivory lion's head topped cane though he has no irregular gait...he sits at teas as if invisible...a room full of women buzz like bees as he nibbles on paper thin biscuits...the tea he sips is subtle for he has a delicate digestion ...and for beauty's sake a tiny violet floats in the pale brew...he listens to the women gossip and scheme..he listens to their hinted longings...he moves to a quiet corner and extracts his pen and paper...he is lately struggling to wrap words around feelings even he can't unmask...the words become weak facades of his immense sorrow...where are the words to hold out to the world?...what words can touch the human heart and move it to awakening?...what words can he craft to give drink to a thirst so immense in himself?...again and again he scratches pen across paper...failure fatigues him...
he walks outside and looks up at the sky...blue as gentle as a lover's first touch...he walks to the stream and follows it to the swell of the river...his ache grows...his body has become a companion to his starving soul...how can he write of love when he has never tasted its intoxicating sweetness...he has moved near to its sacred embrace but has never been devoured by love...and now the water once again calls to him...come lost soul...fill your pockets with stones and slip beneath my surface...tumble into my arms and surrender to my cold kisses...

no...no not today...he will return and kiss his mothers forehead...he will climb the stairs to his room and surrender to his dreams...wondering...wondering if any of this is actually real...his longing and loneliness and ache around his heart...is he himself alive or simply the dream of someone conjuring his life to mirror her own...will her madness take him under the surface of the water someday? could they dream one another happier dreams? his eyes close with gentle thoughts of her...

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