Dream #36

The wood groaned underneath knee, a worn cushion gave way as I bowed my head. It was silent in the chapel; not cold and silent, but rather a warm embracing silence.

Make the sign of the cross. Up down left and right; just like you were taught way back when.

The candles on the altar were light, wax slowly dripping to the base, where the wax was beginning to overtake the candle. I couldn't help but watch the flames dance in its own way, coaxed further into its dance by the draft coming from upstairs.

"Hail Mary, full of grace.."

Listen to yourself. Do you believe what you're saying, or are you just going through the motions?

Barely a whisper at first, someone upstairs behind me began bringing the old organ awake again from its slumber. Airy, breathy even, but not shrill or booming; the organ sighed as it warmed the air with its dulcet tones. I turned, still reciting prayers from memory, to look up at the organ, but none was visible.

"..blessed are thou amongst women..."

Must be in the rectory. Or..a cd? No one else is in here but me, and the front door was unlocked. Ha, could be aliens..

"...holy Mary, mother of God.."

I turned back around to face the altar again and I noticed something peculiar. One of the candles had been replaced and was aflame, as if it had always been there and had always been lit. The organ began playing a melody of Davidic splendor, reaching higher and higher towards the 7th circle, grasping and pulling itself and me into the heavens.

"..pray for us sinners..."

I shut my eyes, the world spinning faster than I can hold on. I put my head on my clasped hands. The organ driving the chapel further and further in cosmic chaos, the candles drip drip dripping wax onto the base and the floor; their flames building in a dance of want and lust, pulling me between it and the organ.

Keep it together man, get a hold of yourself. You're starting to scare me, you, me.

"..at the hour of our death."

As I lifted the weight of my head from my hands, I wasn't in the chapel anymore. Or I was, but the chapel was just pews on grass, an altar in front and the continuous calling of the organ against the winds. This was...this was...a world of chaos and order, a world between flames and organs, a place of past and present and future, of here and before here and parallel here.

"..Amen."

I stand, and I'm in the chapel, sliding out from the pew and grasping the wooden end edge, genuflecting, making the sign of the cross.

Spectacles, testicles, wallet, and watch..

I turn away from the altar, moving with each step closer to the organ, no longer making a sound but rather a vibration that penetrates me, feeling it not on just the skin but in my bones, my mind, into the very essence of my soul. I dip my finger into the holy water, and cross myself. I am just in front of the front doors, reaching out and grasping the handle to leave this place of dual identities, hearing my heart beat match that of the organs vibration. I open the door, and breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality?

Imperfect Love (by Felicia Quinn)

On the surface they seemed perfect.
A fair maiden with a heart of gold and a knight in shining armour.
Past their perfection, held their flaws.
A foul mouthed woman and a dented up knight from fighting past battles often fought alone.
She was brash, he more conservative.
Yet, they were together.
She fought his dragon and he slayed her demons.
The fault of one was another's saving grace.
Two imperfect people destined to be imperfect together.
To one another, they were simply perfect, flaws and all.

A Vow to My Companion

I deserve you as much as you deserve me.

We have gone through hell,
we have faced our own dragons.

We have grown since the first day we met
all those years ago -

We have seen the same sunrises,
the same sunsets from many miles apart.

We have held the hands of others
under the same moon and stars.

We have known what we thought was,
but latter realized to be false,
fulfilling love.

We have made it from stages
of walking,
running,
flying,
through our destinies,
only to come to this moment where our
separate journeys have become
entwined -

and here it is that I realized
that every past companion holds
no light, holds
no flame to that which
we have in ourselves for
each
other.

Stream of Conscious Anxiety

A shower lasting so long
tap turned to hot but water running cold
sitting under the stream
staring at the now lavender and lilac
scars on cream skin.

Kill for a smoke,
kill for no more anxiety,
kill for the depression to fuck off,
death for a second without not living,
nasty bit of bitter realization -
knowing that medication keeps me alive,
while wishing that medication wasn't needed
to keep me
alive.

Am I pulling away from family? From friends?
Are they pulling away from me?
Am I rebounding? Falling back? Spiraling out of
control?
Almost six weeks since going into a mental institution,
Just after six weeks since I

Cut my skin, caused red to gather,
liquid on top of white thigh skin,
staring at the cuts, the blade,
finding a second of peace,
finding a lifetime of questions in return,
finding I wanted to live so lets not cut any deeper,
finding I needed help, needed therapy, needed to
not be there,

Needed to be here.
Needing to be here, home.
Needing to be wanted by others, by friends, by family,
by myself.
Needed and needing
Wanted and wanting
Killed and killing
Craved and craving
Felt and feeling,

For others,
For me,
for me,
for
me.

Anxious for Winter

The smell through the open window in the morning,
you know that it's going to happen soon,
not quite sure if it'll be in the evening,
maybe it'll snow in the afternoon.

Cup of coffee in hand,
balancing act with bags and coats and keys,
front door of the shop finally open,
shivering, snow flurries drifting in the breeze.

A chill up the spine as it hits 2,
trees and roads and awnings and parking meters,
everywhere a thin covering of heaven-sent cotton,
maybe, this Christmas, it won't be so bad for you?

Street lamps flicker alive after the sun is down,
sliding down the boulevard, ice built up thick,
home under the roof by yards of yards of white,
fireplace and wood, candle lit,
flame jumping from the wick.

Curl up in the bed under blankets and blankets and blankets and blankets of soft warmth,
one day down the next to go,
small rest of hibernation until the sol rises,
another night another holiday another chance to pull through.

Letter From a Friend

Dear friend,
It's me your roommate,
the person you wish didn't exist -
why do you hide in your room,
why do you curse my name?

We're one and the same,
we look the same,
I'm not a monster with fangs,
why do you hate me so much?

Look in the mirror,
I'm standing behind you
I am you
you clench your teeth,
but I'm your fate.

Which one of us is it,
whose fault is it,
for lungs filled with smoke,
liver with holes,
eyes bloodshot,
it must be yours,
I've always been here -

You'll come to love me,
kiss my cheek, embrace me,
you'll curl into my arms,
you'll wish you never left me.

Yours,
Depression

Day-Drinking, Night-Living

beer number five
shot number six
night number seven

wipe away memories
scrub out nightmares
crayon markings to
dirty fingerprints
on a white wall

suds wash down
sour tastes of
bitter sights where
pasts walk past me

who was I before
un-fuck my mind
drag from a smoke

mock the way
the smoke billows
from my mouth
watch me now
lungs hold in
waves of white
taste of death
and mint julep
on my breath

breathe for four
hold for three
auburn skies above us

hold my hand
stare into the stars
our eyes shimmer
who whispers
"Love Me?"