Dreams #3

More rambling.

As I feel it... I can do nothing but tremble in it's presence... whisper my want... feeling broken andrestrained... Dusting my eyes… the tingle of the coming… inspired by a wanting so bad that it blinds you… twists you til the tears are there and your hands are wet… til your breath feels stifled by your own mouth stumbling… struggling to utter the words… which in your heart you know will still fall short… a failed attempt at describing a dream. How do you describe dreams... an image so perfect? Oregon...

Do you dream in color or in black and white? Mine are always in color and splashes of light… and far too short lived… vivid short films… glimpses at what could be… possibilities… Do you feel the weight of your dreams? Do they leave behind a shadow? Do you wake expecting that presence… that touch… tastes and smells lingering… pressing in on your chest as if they held you… embraced you? Heart beating in your chest as if there lay a warm form nuzzling against you… breath on your face… perspiration on your skin… dripping possibilities onto your body and into your mind? The dreams’ so vivid that you wander thru your days seeing halos… and odd shadows… as if you have stared at the sun too long and the image is burned into your eyes… staring at a blank wall searching for definition to the image… longing for the image to reveal a bit more… to clear… to materialize and engage you… Dreams of dark angels that whisper their love to your lips and ears… so quietly you strain to hear them fearing that you’ll miss a single syllable… and the sound wont echo in the waking hour… that day breaking at the window will chase them away… scatter them… send them in search of another. I close my eyes often inviting them back… inviting them to whisper to me in the light of day…”I love you”… inviting their breath at my ear… on my neck… wanting to feel it so badly whispered across my lips… a feathers touch that breaks the knees… crumbles the will to stand… and blinds the eyes… tears or light I know not which… they both come… feeling like you’re kneeling at the holiest of alters… praying to gods that only know you’re name… but that elude you in waking hours… only answering while you sleep… leaving you to days spent chasing a voice you’ve heard… only to find rustling leaves and branches or the papers on your desk disturbed by a breeze… Longing is a torment… a burden… one I gladly endure and bear… when eyes closed that one glimpse… that one taste… that form embracing me… the breath at my mouth… the burning on my skin and the sweat from nervous anticipation… makes it all worth while… everything slips away in those moments and there is only me inside the dream… I can fly… I can love… I can lay waste cities with words… build worlds with the same… boil seas… power and strength to no end thru the dreams… begging that this time they scar me so I can carry part of them with me… begging them to burn me so I can exhale their smoke in a whispered love… drown me in rain and flood… cast me into seas and fill my lungs… and leave me adrift… grateful they had filled me… knowing that I bore them with me… that they too longed to be part of me… that they too felt the need to be inside me… gods that know only my name… leaving me kneeling… the holiest of altars I believe I said… prayer to gods of flesh and breath… sweat and tears… beauty and destruction all in blinding, vivid, colors and lights… twist me… burden me… weigh on me… hold me… no fight… no struggle… I give in… show me what you will… I will love it all.