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Jordan Newman Jordan Newman
Recommendations: 15

dreams. pt i


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i see angels above me, i see demons below me, fighting over heaven.
i loved her more when i was sober.
i don't want a second chance.
love starts with that of a flickerin' cigarette
i swear i could feel your love before i knew your name.

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She had a friend.

I'm so tired of waking up just to feel the same as when I laid down in attempt to find peaceful slumber. If dreams don't kill the pain, what's the point of dreaming? Love is such a hard thing to handle&. esp. when your vision blurs as you try to remember the one who you loved, so long ago, so long ago. That one you can't have, and can no longer whisper to them, 'I love you.'


The sad part of this biography of pain is that you know I'm just writing the words you want to hear; but please understand that each word holds some truth to it, that I'm not that pathetic (at least not as pathetic as you remember).


In my dream I black out after the tunnel vision approaches. I hear you whisper, I can hear you whispering but you aren't whispering to me. I fall down, I hear the WHOOSH of wind fly by my ears. I fall down onto soft grass, and it's there I lay awaiting for you to notice me. How long will it be? Before you go, 'oh, he isn't here?' I bet it'll be at least five months; but some say seven months.


Well let's count down the days, when I landed here the sky was full of blue and the sun still smiled on us with warmth; but now I am up to my ears in mud and dirt. This mud is getting hard as the snow falls down and sticks to the ground; I can't get up, I'm stuck here in this pit. It's like quicksand, only my mouth is filled with much; and I start to choke. I can't move, not even when I fucking cough.


Why won't you notice I am gone? This is all I've ever wanted. That's it, nothing more, nothing less. Just for you to notice when I'm not around. I strain to hear a sound in the distance, something, anything other than the silence that follows my thoughts around like a shadow. Right now, even the sound of a voice I hate would save my life; because I ain't going anywhere until somebody notices I am absent.


Slowly my brain starts to shut down. Certain parts go first. My vision, already disappeared and was replaced by a black hole. My ears are filling up with dirt and clog, which makes it harder and harder to hear you, if you were to speak. I can almost imagine your words forming a verbal smile, right there in the air before my eyes. My breath has slowed down now, it's heavy inside my chest. If i cared to try and move, i wouldn't be able to because my muscles have now become tired and worn out. I lay here, in my dream, for what feels like eighteen months and now I'm soaked to the bone; but not from rain, but from my own tears dripping over my corpse.


In my head, in my dreams, her voice still insights visions of crystal blue sky's and orange horizons burning away the mistakes of yesterday. It's clear that this is the devil trying to make a deal with me; and I can say I'm honestly considering it.


It's here in my dreams' I'm afraid to sneeze because i'm hiding from so many people, hiding in this cave I found. Demons dance on the walls, as a fire burns in the centre of the cavern which is the catacombs of my subconscious psyche. I hear howls' from wolves in the distance; but they can't reach me here, not here where even your words will find no home.


Suddenly, I feel like I can't take this self loathing a moment longer and BAM! I am able to see again, to move, to hear, to feel, again; and sadly, the first thing I am introduced to is your laughter. I try to scratch at my ears, to scratch the sound out of my head but I cannot. Instead, I run... I run further and further into the mouth of the cave. In my dream, the flame follows me, it will not diminish any nor will your laughter fade away. Suddenly your laughter turns into a scream, and it's ice cold. The air all around me drops in temperature, ice cold fingers reach up for my neck, reach to grab my throat. I can no longer run, I cannot stay, I cannot do anything. I try to fight, but cannot. The cold hurts and cuts my skin like razors peeling flesh back on my wrist. I know that your coming for my jugular, it's the only reasonable explanation inside this illogical dream realm I call home.


A second wind comes to me and I begin to run! Faster! Quicker! Still your cold hand reaches out, to pull me back in. But I am able to run so fast that even the light can't catch up to me!


BAM! WHAM! Occasionally I run into a wall. The wall is colder than cold, and it feels soft like a liquid. Suddenly the light that was absent reappears and I'm face to face with cavern walls made out of tears. The tears I made you cry. Sweat begins to drip down my spine, I'm so nervous. This is nothing but my memories. The world in which they go to die; and now I to am shedding tears for the departed moments which were finite from the get go.


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Next: excuse my demise.