Wake Up, You’re Dreaming.

I had been dreaming of her the whole time I was asleep, I think. There were these hazy flashes of days long gone; in which she was healthy and full of life, never slowing down to breathe – never really having learned to make any time for herself, always talking until the minute she fell asleep. She was always one of the most unpredictable people in my life, good –bad – or otherwise. I was dreaming of how her incredibly long hair smelled when I was small, and would cling to her neck for the time she’d hold me, which was never long enough in my recollections. I was dreaming of being in total awe, watching her rub “cold cream” into the soft skin covering her sharp cheekbones in the wallpapered bathroom on Skylark Drive. The mint green soap dish I don’t think she ever cleaned once. I dreamed of her ever-present, and accurate, self-comparison to the Princess from the Princess and Pea. I even dreamed vividly and randomly of the vacuum running at 11pm when she was manic…which reminds the waking me of the total absence of any sound other than her snoring coming from her bedroom when she crashed and got depressed. But this morning, I was dreaming of her voice and her smile and her OCD quirks that I always knew I’d miss the instant they ceased. It was the second time I have slept in my own bed at home since whenever it was that she was taken by ambulance to ER with the fever, and I was actually sleeping (dreaming). Oddly, there was already some conscious piece of my mind that was begrudgingly aware of the fact that I would soon have to awaken, so there was some hazy and sleepy hesitancy and disgruntlement already present when my phone started ringing loudly in my ear and woke me from such things.

Let me say this:

Never, have I been yanked from snuggly sleep in the early morning hours by anyone, especially ringing me in my ear on the phone, with an even remotely positive response…until this morning.

The voice on the other end of the line was my Mama’s; not the fever ravaged, brain damaged Mama, either, but My Mama.

“Hey Honey!”

I’m stunned in total wakefulness…

“Hi Mama!”

It’s her voice; the words are spoken with so much gusto and her tone is so calm and genuine; it’s an instant comfort to my heart when I hear it. I honestly feel like it’s been a long time since Life has allowed things to feel as okay as they did during that moment for me…the Gods have given us a little more time together, maybe one last Christmas…maybe not – but she’s stepping down from ICU now and they’ve got most of her problems stabilized, but not all. She’s not out of the woods yet by any means, but she’s alive… and not pissed off about it. On the contrary, she’s starting to come back around to her normal state of mind and perceptive awareness; she has a good grasp on the severity of her condition. Her platelets are still very low, as well as her oxygen levels; but she ate real food today and got out of her bed briefly. She became exhausted by this exercise though, so I don’t think she’ll be doing that again yet. I just hope she continues to improve. Yesterday I was hoping that she would just remain stable. The day before that, I was hoping that they wouldn’t have to give her a blood transfusion or intubate her again. and two nights in row before that, I mean it when I say that I was hoping nothing more than that if the Gods took her then, that they wouldn’t make her suffer much more – but more often those nights, my energies were focused on simply maintaining Life in her dying body.

Several days ago, when she woke up with a start at random, when she began to come of her catatonic-esque state, she had lost all the time in between the present and the night she went to sleep (the day that I last saw her before the fever struck that welcomed pneumonia). She sat bolt upright and gasped at me through her face mask something like,

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry, it’s okay Honey, stop apologizing…”

She was staring into my eyes with a hollowed, searching gaze saying things like that. Later, when she was “awake” for a breathing treatment, she told me that she’d been sure I was kneeling at her bedside, begging her forgiveness; but, I hadn’t been. For a while, this bugged me after she fell back asleep until I realized that she was mentally still in the ER at the hospital the ambulance had dropped her off at initially. I did kneel beside her bed (more like a short table than a bed) there; when I first got there and saw her it was just my reflexive response, I didn’t even think about being in the way of the people trying to stabilize her or anything, I just felt so horrible that she was so sick so suddenly, I was so shocked by her condition, I was truly sorry at that moment. And I did tell her at her bedside that I was so sorry, I desperately begged her forgiveness and kissed her hand.

I quickly pulled myself together though, realizing that she needed me to be strong right then, not some blubbery child. It was just funny to me that she had heard me and understood the context of what I was saying and how I was feeling; this was during what had to have been the closest to death that she has ever been thus far in her time alive. She couldn’t see or move, she was in delirium; but she received my apologies and she felt my concern for her. That’s pretty amazing to me. She is getting better on her loss of days too, so her confusion is dissipating also. I’m not expecting anything from her, one day and night at a time is how the cookie crumbles this Christmas. Which isn’t good and isn’t bad; it just has to be like that.

Seisku.

It’s a thing that I,

am unable to reign in…

this controlled substance.

 

A big dream that I,

turned tables to fit into…

singular instance.

 

Compelled by the skies,

I’m formerly an eagle…

eyeing my justice.

 

Wings that don’t quite fly,

eating scraps with the seagulls…

buried my cutlass.

 

It’s something that I,

will not default to again…

authentic semblance.

 

A thorn in my side,

an erroneous emblem…

demolished remnants.

 

Big Things.

We got big dreams,

me and him

Someday big things

are bound to happen

We’ll grow big trees

As legal aliens

On some big beach

With the Mexicans

We’ll raise puppies

instead of children

Rotts and Boxers

by the millions

I’ll finish each day

still right next to him

he’ll happily inspect

the tan-lines on my skin

He drives a Tonka Truck

I teach words to the orphans

we got big plans on the brink

me and the big boss man

Netherworld.

How this mind
of mine,
constructs a place,
a metallic taste
that saturates;
alive,
by the grace –
of another space
and time.
A Netherworld
just yours and mine
where the thoughts
of you and I;
pornographically
intertwine.
Nobody sees –
just you and me,
just the way
we like things to be;
You feel adored,
and I feel carefree.
A dream belonging
to who
I am when
I’m asleep…
to awaken
in the morning;
to the flushed cheeks
of your
time taken;
just freeze.
Stay locked in this position,
as the rain is drizzling;
nothing outside
of this place
where we hide,
matters too often
anymore to me, at least.
Real eyes
realize…
that time is truth
and truth is a lie;
Happily lost in
the cost
of your eyes,
Rain weighs in
lighter than
teardrops…
and take twice
as long to dry.

Boxcars on Fire.

The stars could not capture that flash from your soulful eyes;
The Gods could not have chiseled such perfection, if they tried;
The nights could not grow longer, without you at my side;
The desire could not get any stronger, by the time our lips collide.

The moon could not hang any lower than how close you need to come;
The sun could not shine any brighter than this thing we’ve gone and done;
The days could not be any better, unless you found them in my home;
The senses could not fire any faster; the bonds are set within my bones.

The clouds could not move anymore quickly by, over our heads;
The clothes could not look any better than they do under the bed;
The hand could not fit any more perfectly around my upper leg;
The Spirit could not be fooled or replaced by another one, instead.

The darkness could not have foreseen you strike a match-light;
The winds could not blow out the glowing embers through the night;
The storms could not come wash our dreams away during the daylight;
The promises could not be broken by the trivial wrong or right.

The memories could not be sold or bought for any price;
The tears could not be wiped away with sugar-coated lies;
The smiles could not be faked by either of us, no matter how we tried;
The grip could not feel any better as it tightens on either thigh.

The authors could not write a better Epic Tale than this;
The composers could not compose music better to my ear than his;
The horns could not trumpet a sound more profound than our kiss;
The girl could not believe that the boy finally turned up like this.

The years could not pass any faster between your heart and mine;
The blood could not bleed any richer than the color of My Valentine;
The skin could not feel any smoother, like the fruit pulled from a thistle vine;

The kisses could not be any sweeter, like candy every time.

 

Whispers.

wtf you lookin at

A small boxed room, hardly lit by the flame through the gloom;
It doesn’t matter though – my hands can still to touch you;
A freezing cold place, everywhere besides your hands and face;
This heat from our bodies warms up the remaining space…

A tangle of linens and clothes, tan lines and scars exposed;
A bead of sweat rolls slowly down the bridge of your nose;
It’s been time to ride these things out, now the secret is out;
There wasn’t much left between us to wonder about…

And so now -here we are, somewhere under the stars;
The day was spent being blessed on my every scar;
It can’t be fought off or sent anywhere else now;
Your fingers grip tightly and my walls all fall down…

There’s nothing to fear, these are your senses right here;
I don’t want to run and you have no desire to disappear;
Let’s just stay then, forget it all – fuck all of them;
I don’t want to go back to the city or to the Reservation…

I’d be happiest I’d venture to guess;
If I stay curled up in a ball on your chest;
And things could stay so calmly this way, every time – always;
I’ll eat your whispers like food to my soul ‘til that day…