yeah, i'm awake
3:08 ayem:
i had another zombie dream. i must be afraid of something. there was no one here to soothe my fears. of which i have a few.
who am i kidding? i have many.
so i ran around in the dream. i knew the zombies were coming. i was in some neighborhood, with people i did not know. i kept telling them, don't run around. arm yourself. get ready to leave. there is nowhere to hide here and they are coming.
of course, no one listened.
with the few people i could gather, i fled in the red vintage car that was strangely elongated. with people in the odd trunk that had glass around it. for some reason, they begged me to stop and against my better judgement, i did.
i was in front of my childhood home. my family was inside. i ran through the house and saw the zombies coming in through a door in the fence that had never been there. i turned back and no one seemed to be paying attention, despite my shouted warning. it was like i wasn't there. i ran through the side gate to find my car had been broken into and the zombies feasting on anyone who remained in there.
they were also going through the front door of the house. anyone inside was gone.
that was pretty much when i woke up.
so, i got up. checked shit on the internet and found that people had still been active while i was dormant. typical. i turned on the last half hour of the dreamers and am now watching poison ivy.
ah, late night cable provides the perfect backdrop to my loneliness and the overwhelming feeling that i have that no matter how loud i scream, no one listens.
i am tommy and his pinball machine
i am the iron man and his vengeance scheme
i am both the thrower of the molotov cocktail
and the one who argues against
joan of arc on her horse
dorothy parker and her drink
my problem is that i actually think
and feel
strapped to the wheel
i stand at the hot gates in the blood soaked field
spartiate warrior or helot, i refuse to yield
the china doll with the spine of solid steel
whatever cloth the fates will weave
you are the one i cannot leave
i hate when i spew poetry. it hurts.
i had another zombie dream. i must be afraid of something. there was no one here to soothe my fears. of which i have a few.
who am i kidding? i have many.
so i ran around in the dream. i knew the zombies were coming. i was in some neighborhood, with people i did not know. i kept telling them, don't run around. arm yourself. get ready to leave. there is nowhere to hide here and they are coming.
of course, no one listened.
with the few people i could gather, i fled in the red vintage car that was strangely elongated. with people in the odd trunk that had glass around it. for some reason, they begged me to stop and against my better judgement, i did.
i was in front of my childhood home. my family was inside. i ran through the house and saw the zombies coming in through a door in the fence that had never been there. i turned back and no one seemed to be paying attention, despite my shouted warning. it was like i wasn't there. i ran through the side gate to find my car had been broken into and the zombies feasting on anyone who remained in there.
they were also going through the front door of the house. anyone inside was gone.
that was pretty much when i woke up.
so, i got up. checked shit on the internet and found that people had still been active while i was dormant. typical. i turned on the last half hour of the dreamers and am now watching poison ivy.
ah, late night cable provides the perfect backdrop to my loneliness and the overwhelming feeling that i have that no matter how loud i scream, no one listens.
i am tommy and his pinball machine
i am the iron man and his vengeance scheme
i am both the thrower of the molotov cocktail
and the one who argues against
joan of arc on her horse
dorothy parker and her drink
my problem is that i actually think
and feel
strapped to the wheel
i stand at the hot gates in the blood soaked field
spartiate warrior or helot, i refuse to yield
the china doll with the spine of solid steel
whatever cloth the fates will weave
you are the one i cannot leave
i hate when i spew poetry. it hurts.
posted by eugenie de franval at 2:59 AM
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