iggy

i have been dreaming lately these surreal dreams, bright but desolate, like the subjects of a hopper painting.

like the other night my fathers father was in my dream, i never knew him, he died when my father was a kid, in the dream he said he wished he could have been there, then he gave me money, then there were children dancing around a may pole and i was in a hospital.

they are like the dreams i have when i have a fever. Perhaps i am getting sick.

i can't shake the feeling of a breath gone completely sour in this heyday of mine.

quality times of our lives spent in a wallowing gesture of kindness.

i want to feel again the chords open up beneath me as i speak soft words that can not be heard through thin city walls.

a longing like a cadence, this crescendo, this twilight, i have quoted you as i hated you and i can't think of the words to say to you anymore other than yes or no or i would like another....

beer perhaps.

but that part is over.

i am severin now, i can only pretend to be otherwise, but when the door shuts i am nothing but a girl in the corner of the bed waiting for you.

its something so unknown to me now....