Fever Dream

*I wrote this a few years back after mixing a few medications that probably shouldn't have been mixed.  I was horribly ill and not thinking clearly.  Also, I decided to watch Apocalypse Now while riding this wave.  That film and multiple pots of coffee broke a friend of mine once.  I don't know if he reads this but sorry to bring it back up Jonathon.  I found this and for some reason decided to post it.  I'm sure it is terrible and makes no sense.  Call it modern art or something if it helps with the digestion.  As Barry Ween once said, "Modern Art is Mule Cum".*

Tick Tock.

Tick Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tock.

Tock.  Tick.

Backwards world with colors of nightmare.  Walk into the mirror, silver reflection washes over you in waves of madness. 

Sit in the room.  The chair and you.  The cat stares beyond you.

Black as night, eyes of jade.  Sees through your lies.  Watches through air solid like love.  Ephemeral for eternity.

Touches upon the soul, wasting away as famine will do.  Watch the cat, it watches you.  The voices outside grow even louder.  Howling for you but the door is locked.  Safer than you could ever dream.

All of the windows are broken.  Bars protect, as do screens.  The bats on the roof sleep soundly.  

Move little but dance in a circle, by yourself or with the cat.  It cares not for what you want.  It is here as your warden of life.  Guardian?  Ask it.

It will not respond, it is a cat.  

You blink and it is gone.  You smile and it shrieks form the ether.  

The rain is falling on your head from above although there is no hole in the roof.  

Why are you here?  Where are you?  This is?  Questions?

Myths are dreams with answers pending, taste of your fears never ending.  

An odd way to spend your day wrapped in the plastic of dreams that smell of strawberries and taste like suspense.  

Its all fake you tell yourself in the mirror as the you that you see becomes a beast and flies off into the moon set.  You try to cry but only laugh which in turn makes you cry harder.  Madness is the ocean in which you float.  Your boat is made of joy and slowly is crumbling beneath you.

Wake up you scream to the moon.  

Not the moon but a hole in the velvet sky darkness staring down at you with uncompromising disregard.

Taste the world, drink it in.  

Sideways and crooked.

The cat stares at you from the chair, it smells your insanity.

Tick Tock goes the clock.  Water drips on your head. Tock Tick.

Wake Up.