I had a dream that they made me take a poison and kill myself. Like Socrates. It scared the sleep out of me.
I had a dream that I died and went somewhere else, into another dream maybe of different hues and feelings. Slower, slower.
I had a dream that they tried to inject me with something that would make my brain melt and as I felt it happen I fought it and killed the man with the syringe.
A preoccupation with death it seems. At the moment I am terrified of it, due to its utterly foreign and alien nature. We don't hear stories of what happens on the other side. We don't come back when we head all the way over to the other side. We don't come back to tell the stories.
Going to a place you have never been before is a little frightening....for me anyway. What about going to a place that no one has ever been before? No one still alive. What about leaving your body? Your mind?
I can't tell you what I feel right now. I can't tell you what I do not know myself.
And now I am laying on the ground. Blood is glistening shiny strawberry red on the asphault. It is running into the drains. Don't dump, goes straight to the ocean. Taste the copper in my mouth. Lift my head....to try to see. Kicked. There goes two or three teeth.
Mouthing the words. A fish gasping for air. Air in the water.
Fuck. Losing touch? With what? How do they do it? Live without thinking? How do they do it?
A nervousness so great, so feverish; the tremors. Oh, the tremors.
