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" you say dreams have no power here , perhaps you speak truly , tell me , what power would hell have if those imprisoned within it were not able to dream of Heaven " .
Quoted from THE SANDMAN , by Neil Gaiman .
I can feel the drugs coursing through me , filling my arteries with powder blue dreams and opening my eyes to things that have always been there , the room comes alive as the drugs work their way through my veins and into my skull , the amphetamines blossoming like an opal black flower , spreading , touching , changing , each sprouting petal open’s up my senses to realms that lay dormant till now , the room swirls as my perception comes alive coursing with narcotic fervour , the walls glimmer and begin to sway , they’re sentient and coming alive , I can hear the whispers that crawl through the cracks like the voices of lost children in the dark , the wooden panelling of my apartment glows emitting a pale blue fire that Illuminates everything , my hands dig deep into the plush velvet of my sofa as the room exhales a melange of colour , blood and life .
The floors are splashed with claret coloured suffering , streaks sprayed in random order from the gaping wounds of my lover as she lays on the floor , the colour has drained out of her , she lay’s like a beached porcelian whale on a sea of shiny red dreams , the narcotic caresses further into the recesses of my mind , stroking and encircling my perception within it’s all awakening embrace , bringing my senses to a state of merger where I am one with everything , the bubbling crimson sea at my feet comes alive at my touch , each cell calling my name , the harmony washing over my body and making me pure and less alone in what is often a solitary existence there are other voices now coming from outside my doors , many voices , some afraid , other’s angry , all scared , I can hear the wood being splintered as they the keepers of law and order seek their way in but it doesn’t matter anymore , each of us in our own way will always be trapped in our own little world of urban hell and solitude , ploughing a field of heartache and despair in our search for contention and companionship , each apartment block can be likened to a living breathing cell , each wall of concrete and alabaster can be likened to a barrier that divides you and I in our own little grey landscape of hurt and longing but in here I’m alive and no longer alone , the cold is kept at bay by the warmth of my bleeding lover , my thirst slaked by her carmine tears , they can take me and incarcerate my flesh for all eternity but in these few brief moments I am happy and no longer alone .
The end .
Copyright Suhail Jones 2003
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Deleruim
Osiris raises his hands to the sky
As the night's embrace fades , giving way to an opuim dawn
Blood will be spilt this day as it has been done every other since time immemorial
Hearts fragile as porcelain will be broken
Wounds will bleed leaving scars that will not soon be forgotten in their wake
Fear and lies will reign , crimson gods marking the end of an era
All the while the meek shall Sit here in the fever grip of delerium
Painting a better reality with dreams than the harshness they would hide from today .
Copyright.suhail jones 2000 |
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