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Date Posted: 16:53:15 07/08/02 Mon
Author: paul
Author Host/IP: spider-ntc-ta053.proxy.aol.com / 198.81.16.43
Subject: A Day in the Life...of Daydreaming

Morning:
The sunlight starts as just a reddish tint to the darkness. The sun rearing itself from hiding. Stretching itself like one of the cats from their lazy comfort sprawled across some uncomfortable mismatched furniture. That soft crimson suddenly breaks into an abrasiveness like the late night vindictiveness of foghorn wielding train operators, their bloated bellies and scratching stubble giggling with youthful Christmas joviality as windows shake and cold bodies stir unconsciously in their wake. My day begins, pulled from already forgotten dreams that kept me rolling in and out of holding onto her. I curl up into the cave her fetal position offers me, her warm body inviting me like a rock does to a serpent. The shivering needles in my extremities screaming me into reality like that ominous rapping at your door when you wish you weren't expecting the expected. In her embrace, her confined world, my hopes rise like cartoonish mercury about to explode. I repeat her old utterance: take me off the burner. My heart had quickly dropped in dreadful fear only to skyrocket immediately afterwards in admiration…adoration…happiness whenever she softly spilled such words upon me, in tongue or ink. Now she only sleeps as I should be doing, but dreams never could offer what those shut eyelids, full lips, that tender skin that pulls across every fine feature could. Her high cheekbones that are reminiscently Oriental and that jawline that beams proud of Heaven's perfection. Both sun and midnight moon light glimmer crystal waters, ambient snow across that taunting jaw line. A finger runs across her full lips, images of them flushing purple at opportune moments. My body stirs. Her chest rises and falls with every breath, her breasts running across my body with every inhale. Exhale, pictures of the cartoonish mercury rising. Inhale. Exhale. My body stirs. Time to depart, reality smirking with its small victory. I place my lips atop each eyelid like pennies to pay her toll. They are closed light as feathers and flutter at my touch, her slumbering mind taking flight into horizons and dreams I can't imagine. I tuck my soul where my body was, in that cave shelter she offered me and rise to the world outside me.

Work:
What the noble and ambitious proudly refer to as responsibility weighs upon me, causing my spirit to plunge
from orbit, pummeling downward. Down with screaming and fright and want of something less material, less tangible.
More screaming and I hit with a thump, not into the bright metropolis the aspiring bores painted, but into my own barren, deadpan face. Like a deserted Little Prince I search of a fox to befriend me. Reality laughs and graduates into the monotonous soundtrack of my daylight hours. The machines hydraulically hissing, electrically humming, pneumatically moaning to every whine of customers and groan of coworkers. The machine in front of me is stamped "REALITY model AC360" and coughs politely for me to join in. I glaze over in rebellion…remembering. She mumbled lovely hymns as I stirred this morning, her hair falling in wisps as I imitated a kiss atop her head. She is my religion, my bible, my prayers, heaven, and temple. Another cough, louder. She is the sunset I always wept at, the stars I solemnly wished upon. She is my… another booming cough. My arm moves, waist twists, foot twitches. Answered with a hiss, a breath. My arms move faster, more hydraulic hissing. My foot stomps onto a pedal followed by a pneumatic moan. A breath. A hiss. More synapses fire. More moaning. More telegraphs tapping from my brain to my limbs. More hissing. The hum is constant. Breath. Hiss. Fire. Moan. Breath. Hiss. Tapping. Hissing. Breathing. Moaning. Firing. Always humming. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Monotony. Monotony. Monotony. Angel. Hiss. Breath. My cloud lying in bed half clad, breasts rising and falling. Her lips flushing purple and cheeks rouge. A cough. I plummet from my orbit. Thump. Breath. Hiss. The machine begins to look somewhat fleshy. It hisses, I breath. My arms adopt that cold sheen of polished chrome. I hiss. It breathes. We hiss. We breathe. We moan. We tap telegraphs. Our synapses fire. We breathe. We hiss. My body gets colder, shinier. The machine beats it's heart with hydraulic fluid, air, electricity. It is more human. I am more machine. We meet in the middle. We breathe, we hiss. Repeat procedure. Monotony, monotony, monotony… and always humming.

Twilight:
Responsibility and passion chase each other through the moments of our lives just as the sun and moon do, never really knowing which pursues and which is pursued. I always find myself grateful that the sun is entirely absent in my night time hours, responsibility has no place in moments of inexplicable passion. I enter into a world that comforts me. Warmth wrapping around me at my front door, a strong embrace, and I breathe. Only me. My chrome veneer comes off nicely in the shower, the hot water scalding me slightly red. I repent. The need to gesticulate upon my altar overwhelms me. The shower head hisses, I breathe. I breathe again, a sigh. A moment of clarity, some sunlight peaked into my twilight hours. The steam floats around me. A deep inhalation and I see the smoky tendrils swimming inside my lungs. In front of the mirror I slightly shudder, mostly smirk. Upon every pale moment of my body a memory sits. A dragon perched on my chest and the flashes of her gripping there, agony pulled across her face. Remembering those moments that I swallowed her, her pain permeating every pore I offered. Every breathing, beating cell saturating itself with her miseries. Always overwhelmed so quickly, I couldn't take another drop but relentlessly took more. Filling myself, boiling over. Take me off the burner. I never did. I cradled and caressed and wept until she grew calm. I would have hammered nails throughout my person to relieve her of her grief. I was going to change the world so she had a better place to sleep, so she could breathe a cleaner air, a clearer conscience. In the end I was like a sponge with the residual moisture turning to mildew, and rotting me. The miseries I took from her swallowed me, festering, until I couldn't distinguish which grievances were hers or mine. I never fought my gradual departure from bliss. I rather welcomed it. Trouble trusting myself to show her how much I loved her by conveying companionship, I thought that only self-sacrifice would prove to her how truly enamored I was. Am. How hopelessly I slew myself at her feet. In retrospect I took the wrong route. I eventually turned rabid and never saw her happiness blossom, my misery turning her sour. That wasn't how it was supposed to be, I was supposed to take away all her nightmares, calm her every horrid reality. I was supposed to take them in and never let them out, giving my life so she could breathe a sweeter air. I was supposed to absorb those tears that burned me, the breakdowns that shook me, the screaming and flailing nightmares that finally broke me, and never let her see them again. I was going to save her, show her heaven, but I only enlarged those evils, I exaggerated them and unwillingly fed them back into her. She left. I repent.

Now in my dark bedroom I see her muffled figure under the blankets. She is so beautiful, tears welling up inside of me I pray upon her slumbering form. My eyes drowning in every tender moment we had, in every tender touch I laid upon her naked body, soul. Inhale. Exhale. Her breasts rising and falling. I curl into the cave her position offers me and fade. Breath. Hiss. A thump and reality sets in before unconsciousness. I curl into myself, she hasn't been here in months. I am alone, in a restless sleep.

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