Secret

I am so tired of things being jammed inside me. Sticks, needles, some weird kind of smoke, pills. I feel better, but fuck.






Actually that one was kind of fun. It's interesting though, not sure what happened but things are changing. Everything is changing. Just like always. I'm too fickle and I hate that about myself. You really see who you can count on when you're sick. Some people don't answer the phone, others call consistently to make sure you're ok.

I think that says something about who I should be spending time with. I tried to get a picture of the lady giving me a shot in my ass but she had to use two hands to do the injection and no one else wanted to hold the phone. Unfortunate things like that happen.






This is what shows up when my office (or SWI) calls me. Kind of similar? I'm so confused right now. Maybe it's the medicine but I can't quite make sense of it all. I'm thinking too much I'm sure, but it's the weird dream I've had 5 nights in a row. I don't even want to sleep because I already know where it will lead me.

Down, down, deep down a dark road. Driving, driving, texting texting. There is always something vaguely familiar about the road. I know the curves, so I drive as fast as I can without flipping the car. It's effortless and I love the speed.

No cars are on the road, I don't know where I'm headed. I'm smoking in the dream and that never happens. I crash the car just for fun, I want to feel snuggled in between the twisted metal because I know it's safe.

My maximum velocity and a few sharp jerks of the wheel accomplish the task quite nicely. I'm baked inside the crumpled car and nothing ever felt better. I'm trapped but safe. At least it seems that way.

Every night I wake up from the dream and I'm not were I fell asleep. I've got keys in my hands and my feet are always bloody. I look in the mirror and my face is bruised, bloody, scraped and disgusting. I pull out the teeth that are loose and set them under the soap. I walk back to bed and fall asleep.

Then I wake up. I hate dreams like that. You never know what's real. It was interesting, the first time. But it's getting old. I'm not quite sure of anything anymore.

A few days of isolation can do that to you, trust me, I know.

Maybe dreams are a reflection of our inner-mental status. It's reasonable that to make sense of things we need a different way of looking at them. Emotions are complicated, but when you get the point, when do the dreams end? It's becoming obnoxious.