Her name was Charisma. She could see her breath, a white steamy puff of air against the cold, dark sky. She gazed downward...hoping to see bare feet with dainty painted toes digging gently into the warm desert sand.....but all she saw was clunky black boots sinking into the mud. Sigh. Charisma was a beautiful woman in her late twenties, but she was feeling like a child of 8; vulnerable, confused, and missing her parents. A path out of the woods led her to a painfully dark highway. She began walking and wishing without purpose. Four miles later Charisma saw a large road sign. 5 miles to Derry. With a gasp, she realized....she was left, dumped, abandoned....back in cold, rural New Hampshire. You can add to this story by clicking here!! http://www.hipforums.com/forums/showthread.php?t=261724
Today I had to work. When I got home I took a nap on the couch with the sun shining in and the t.v. politely blaring. What followed was one of the strangest most vivid dreams I've ever had, not to mention at some point during this nap I think I may have astrolly projected. I wanted to write my dream down for the to deep for you to fathom memories. Since it would have taken me forever I decided the best way to describe it would be what you might call a poem. NA faithfuls would refer to this as a "using dream." Two drug riddled blondes. The sun shine is proper. 2 bags of color changing pills inside a pair of addidas cross trainers. Inside a box? Beautiful curious by standers. A nervous knock on a door which opens to another open door. Clothes and junk are all over the floor. There lies the second whore. One half acne one half innocence. Does she even remember? no. She's too weak to flabbergast even though not much time has passed. A question about drugs sparks the memory of a one night stand and a vague video store adventure. Did I mention there's more where that came from? The sun shine is sooo proper. I plan to return but plans often shatter hopes. I enter an anxious family gathering with a larger than normal mother and a lonely daughter. No sign of any of the others. Litter boxes and loving demands. I'm busy with the intent to distribute. Panic arises over the normal surprises and the desire for a scrabble game. I escape to a sanctuary within the domicile where I have crashed. I'm occupied by a mild intoxity that will soon change, and the shape shifting toxins in my mouth. My fix turns food than to an afro hair-ball, than a blood or vomit. I'm too fucked up to tell. The ghost of a living re-incarnate manifests, and describes a lost soul. Heaven becomes purgatory when my legs don't work. "Keep it down Weezy you'll get me caught. I'm going to get laid later. That's better but..." WHAT WORLD IS THIS!!!!!!!! By now you either have a deep understanding of this experience or you don't have a clue. Either way I bet I just blew your MIND! If you want to know what this was all about I will tell you. If you don't, that's fine too. Regardless, I would be interested in your interpretations. Here are a couple other so so poems that I wrote fairly recently: Necessity is the key element in death, and it always wins. Help is given to whores and kids by forgiving souls. Be one, be whole, be universal. Would Jesus do me? Is your saviour the harbinger of deep seeded blasphemy? Milk your mind boxes and do your best to forget. Once upon a time love was innocent. Veins dance to the tast of cancer. While the springtime fills hearts with joy. The love bugs care not that the flies eat shit. Liaks think the poor prey on the rich. Here comes the reality switch. Life was simple when it could be summed up with "Lifes a bitch." Now and days beggars are forced to borrow so they can live thru tomorrows sorrows, and the entity within searches for a friend. Let me know what your thougts are on these two. One love, Chris
As I read this i felt a feeling of insight on life. Also love how you worded "milk your mind boxes and do your best to foerget"
