mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli
mordicai

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Rotten night for your boy, ma. Thought I could farm the weariness I was feeling, so I had Jenny turn off the movie we were watching (the mediocre I Love You Man featuring stoner Tyler Durden) & turn in early. She knocked off right away, but not me! I stayed awake as the cell phones buzzed & lit up-- text message! Or a haunting. Next up, mosquito bites! Followed by the books on the bookshelf toppling, one after another-- that riddle took a bit to figure out, as it was just "thump!" followed by "thump!" See, but I Gordioned it out, I didn't flip my wig! My wig stayed put. I got up & fooled around in the living room with the computer, hoping to lull myself off till I was fit to hit the hay. Sitting in the dark in front of my magic mirror-- who is the fairest of them all?

I did eventually get to nod off, but only to the slippery eels of dreams. Seems like everyone has been sleeping poorly the last few days-- I was just talking about dreams with nemoren. Slipped into darklands, I mean-- there the sun don't ever rise, but neither do the stars & the black ain't inky, the black is oily, sheen-slick, sickly cancer rainbows. Lost with plump dryads trying to lead me into their poisonbark. Won't be having that ladies & I won't lay on top of you either. To the hydra, who kills everyone I feed it. The scylla who picks off the six soldiers I bring, to stop it. Sitting in its laboratory, gloating. Invincible. My sword has a signet stamp on the hilt & so all I can do is send letters sealed with wax to the next six. Until I eventually convince them to worship the hydra as a god; live in harmony, because how it the relentless hunger & killing any different than any other god? Waking up hear & there, sword in between its fangs, breath in my face. I'm made of porcelin & steel. My hands greasy from the clotting effluvia of the dead, prince bloody handed, gore & ichor for my cape.
Tags: dreams
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