dream 1

long and winding cliffside overlooking a sprawl of highway interlocking zones of transmission and transport fallen to rubble, disrepair, the whole glorious concrete achievement set to crumble like a cookie, with lonely people talking to themselves on the hopeless grey stretches, once industrious at wasting energy, once hysterical, now as entertaining as horrible. and yet... i was in a tent writing a poem to save the earth, to save love, to save the future, i was writing on the walls to save the whole globe, the letters were incandescent and burned with reality, they were candles unto themselves, incredible vibrance, bright with resolve, all of memory condensed into a whirlwind of ecstatic surfaceless dimension, words so wicked and real and without judgement, unbelievable flow of language, a trip, i became bart simpson, nuclear son, cartoon of rebellion, spinning in the wondrous worldending survival tent, last resort, a vacation like no other until i went home, strange unforgiving home, i was pissing into the volumed toilet, the overcrowded plumbing spilling out, leaking, it was running over the bathroom floor, out under the door, away, and i went back to the couch after forgetting the television, a fruitful lapse, when people i could consider friends out of convenience were there, and i ate globs of hashish, sinking, sinking... today she is dying of cancer, down in the valley, valley so low, horrible, terminal cancer foreclosing her system, toxic proliferation, a dead-end. cancer that is like a monopoly, a tyrannical life-eating law. scary cancer without reckoning. cancer we can't even begin to discuss. cancer without aim, wild inside-out cancer.

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