(RH) slipping/no motivation
and then i wake up and i'm lying neatly in the middle of a quiet and very clean concrete roadway.

she is nowhere to be found, my fake plastic love, and
i am dressed in very soft pale grey pants and t-shirt.
they are bland and very uniform, but the way they hang
loosely about the skin of my otherwise naked body is
enough compensation to let this detail be overlooked.

the street runs long and straight in two directions
and is free of any markings typically used for traffic
instruction. there is almost no light. the street is
lined by rows and rows of imperceptibly galvanizing
structures, huge monlithic buildings which are
faceless and blank except for the first floors which
are all paneled with black tinted windows. the only
light is from the faint green neon of the sewer
drainage openings and the vague hint of darknightblue
which swallows the narrow expanse overhead between the
rooftops of buildings.

i open my mouth to fill my lungs and feed my blood to
pump my heart to fuel my coporeal construct with a
fresh dose of sweet oxygen when with a start i begin
to gasp and choke and try to scream when i realize
that there is no oxygen and i am getting dizzy very
quickly and my arteries clot thickly and my
countenance grows pale and sickly shades/hues/ques of
purple as i painfully make my way to the sidewalk.

i approach the paneled windows in desperation and can
vaguely make out the shapes of blinds on the other
side. my eyes focus, they adjust quickly as if in
response to my dying body's need and i can see a bed
and a man and a woman sleeping very close together,
she huddled beside him, both torsos and feet smoothing
bad memories and sighing in heaven on earth. the sad
longing which this image creates almost stops my need
to survive, the need to preserve the immutability of
this singular moment temporarily outweighing that of
my physical sense of continuity. this passes when i
choke on my tongue. i hear myself rap on the window
with what strength i have left and the world slows
down. the man raises his head and stares at me with
blank black eyes in air-conditioned darkness on the
other side of his perfecttightsealedwindowframe
suffocating me. i try to scream at him and he is
getting up from the bed. he does not move to wake the
woman but stands there staring at me in confusion.

he appears to be looking for something with which to
defend himself, a piece of sporting equipment or a
lighting instrument perhaps, something to smash the
strange skull of the evil which is pounding upon his
bedroom window in the middle of the night.

this is when i become lost between the futility of the
moment and the desire to survive and turn back to the
street. she has returned for me. my artificial and
true polysaccharide companion. my love. she smiles at
me with her empty and flawless void and seems to be
laughing.

"it's time to back to sleep now..." she whispers.

my eyes roll back in my head and i collapse into the
cool soft animal purpose of sublimation. dreams mean
nothing.

chris
[][][]"I saw a ghost of a Japanese girl in the park outside my house. She was sitting on the swings all night."[][][]