Someday

I'll gently squeeze a woman's arm and say,

"It's going to be alright."

And we'll both believe it.

And it will be all right.

When I Squeeze My Eyes Shut

The world disappears.

But it always returns when I open them.

For those of lacking plans tonight:

There is always this good time waiting (see the 11:00 p.m. band!).

After you kill your Idols

Do you become your own Idol?

And then would have to kill yourSelf?

The Sink Will Stay Clean

If you keep your hands from getting dirty in the first place.

Dream, Life, or Metaphor?

I awake.
I feel the heat of sun on my body as I lay on my back.
In grass, it feels, in a place unknown, yet familiar.
When I open my eyes, all I see is the gray blanket of clouds. They cover the entire sky or ceiling above me. Not moving, perfectly still, they filter through a, seemingly, bright and burning sun. I surmise that, if this grayness were to disappear, the world I awoke in would shine brighter than any Childhood Dream.

But the clouds do not disappear. They remain steadfast in their position.

I move my hands. The grass feels dry as if it's Late Autumn, dried out from many days under a hot blazing sun. But the moment has no temperature; it is neither noticeably warm nor noticeably cool. No breeze and no wind. It just is.

I rise.
All around me, for as far as my eyes can see, is this greenish-yellowed grass. Miles and years away, the gray clouds meet the greenish-yellowed grass in a perfect line. The horizon and the whole of land around me is perfectly flat. Computer-generated flat. Made by God flat.

There are no colors, but Gray and Green and rotting Yellow.

I walk forward. All points of the compass are unknown to me; if I could see the sun, I suppose it would be High Noon. No Shadow, no Angle from which to determine direction.

I walk forward. And as I walk, every song I have ever heard plays through my mind. Back-to-back the music goes through my head in a steady steady steady rhythmic march.

I walk forward, directionlessly and without any visual target or goal. I just walk forward. The clouds do not change, the music never stops, and the horizon does not get closer. The grass crunches softly quietly beneath my steady metronomic steps.

I lay down in the greenish-yellowed grass.
How long have I trudged along?
A day?
3 decades?
960 minutes?
A lifetime?

I sleep and dream memories of my past. Realistic moments and distorted re-tellings of events that may or may not have occurred. My Regrets point at me laughing; and, my Triumphs sit in the far corner of my mind forgotten, covered in dust, and sighing in cold pints of beer.

I awake, surrounded by greenish-yellowed grass for as far as my eyes can see.

Just 13 More Minutes

One more cigarette,
and finish this last beer.

Then I'll slip into bed,
and disappear from the waking world.