Three Quarters Past Tomorrow

Like the rising sun

That sets the world on fire,

He destroyed the dark.

Tomorrow I will be a fire and you will be the fondue and someone will soak their lives inside your smile, but your smile will always be mine; my flames keep it alive.

The pieces float in the wind, each fragment a portrait in its own right, a tumultuous canvas that you can only see if you are in pieces too, floating through the stratosphere, blazing like a diamond and hoping for the best.

Dodge.

Dodge some more.

Dodge longer.

Dodge harder.

Dodge smarter.

Dodge safer.

Dodge quicker.

Dodge better.

Dodge the fuck out.

Wish you could see what I see.

acrimoniousrex asked: I reblogged a thing. I hope that my doing so has not encroached on your artistic integrity (or something).

Nope, as long as my name is still on it and people don’t assume that my brilliance is yours.

“Yesterday, I was talking to one of my enemies. “How are you today?” he asked when he saw me on the street. “Oh hello, Archbishop, I am doing well”, I responded. And then we went on our way.”

“Be more medium.”

“I love reading my dictionary. It is a really nice dictionary. I bought it from a dictionary truck. There were all sorts of dictionaries there. Long, small, triangle, orange, blue and oval. I bought the plain one.”

Do not look into the mirror.

There are eyes watching your every move.

Do not look into the mirror,

They will see you, 

They will hunt you,

They will feed off your ego

And you will lie in pieces 

On the bathroom floor,

Your chances of resurrection denied,

Your mascara a scar on your lower lip.

The Cult of the Sun God began today.

A mile of people,

High on the smoke of the wild forest leaves,

Rises to the top of the hill.

The Sun will come three days from now.

The people will wait but their eyes will wander.

The world does not shimmer in the moonlight

Like it did yesterday.

The forest does not hiss with melting starlight;

That dream is gone.

The Cult of the Sun God brings forth the rain,

Whom the thunder is calling to I do not know.

I have seen eyes on fire tonight,

I have seen words turn feral.

The worst of the night will go,

The Hour will come and it will pass,

Like it did that night when the magic was born;

The night your parents made love.

The Hour will pass, but how many will follow?

The clouds shift,

Eating the sky.

The birds have come from far away lands,

Bringing a smell that sticks to the air

Like your eyes stuck to mine

The day the Sun God chose us to be.

I have waited for longer than I knew to wait,

But there was not time enough for that

As the desert sand flew in from the east

And landed in my eyes,

Scratching my pupils

And making its way through my sight

Till all I could see was a speck of sunlight

Filtering through the pain and the dark.

I chose to come with all that led

The way up the hill,

The mighty, lonely hill,

The hill that is commander.

I chose to hold a child in my arms,

Whose child I do not know:

A child who will probably die at the hands

Of a man who is angered by

The cleft in his lip.

I will wait, knowing that you will be somewhere,

Waiting with me,

Or waiting for me:

Maybe you do not know what you are waiting for.

And maybe you think that as the Sun rises and the people chant

And laugh

And sing, intoxicated with smoke

And life,

That the world has turned

The right way up again.

Maybe you will join with them in praise of the Sun,

Maybe your eyes will shine

And your lips will part

And your nose will twitch

The way it did when you saw me cry

With laughter.

Maybe you will look up into the light,

And smile,

And as the people smile with you,

You will find a home,

On the hill,

Gazing up at the sky,

With the Cult of the Sun God by your side.

But I know from your eyes,

From your tears,

And from their truth,

That no matter how hard you try to look at the Sun,

All you can see is my face

Buried in the curve of your neck

Cast in the shadow

Of the forest where we parted,

So long ago,

In the depths of the night.

I had a wonderful dream last night, but I have forgotten it now.

I remember waking up and thinking - What a wonderful idea. Perhaps I should use it in my writing so I can impress people and make a lot of money one day.

But now I cannot for the life of me remember what it was, or even what it was about.

…

The human mind is a wonderful place, is it not? 

We do not ask for dreams, but when they come to us we beg them to stay.

…

I wish I could invent a machine that tapped into my mind and collected my dreams on a little microchip that I could plug into my computer and watch whenever I wanted to be entertained.

But dreams would not survive on a microchip; they blur, they stick, they hiss and they break.

…

One of these days something monumental will happen.

I can sense it in the way my skin sticks to my bones and the way my eyes always look up.

I can see it on people’s faces as they look at me on the street.

Something is coming for me, the air is ripe with it.

…

Food is an important reminder of our mortality.

…

Dream-hunting in the desert vs. song-fornication on Garage Band?

There is something about dreaming that debilitates the mind and controls you even in wakefulness.

You cannot un-see a dream and you cannot rise out of a nightmare without a broken heart.

I do not know what you want to believe but I believe that every time I dream I look through the eyes of another.

Somewhere someone is dreaming of me, but I do not know his name.

Somewhere someone is dreaming of me but I have a different face.

Somewhere someone is dreaming of me in the light of a thousand stars.

Somewhere someone is dreaming of me and I am his to command.