dicotomy of sleep, waking up makes you tired

2003-09-22, 10:49 a.m.

i told the nap i just took to go fuck itself. why do i wake up? i look at the red lines, crossing and cutting the black wall into a number, and it should be morning. i get up and im still in a dream, i swear it. then i stop, think, and realise that all the rhetoric, all the dialogues i have had about dreams; they could become more than words. i could be asleep, the images around me are familiar enough, this aching jaw is certainly unoriginal, even those sounds are like a record heard too many times.

i check the internet for hopes of a clue to my current state, and those headlines are absolute jokes, they could have been easily invented by me. SHIT. the car seems like it ran away to mexico with its lover, i am here still remmembering that i saw my relatives for the first time since i was 7 (that did happen today, didnt it?). i know the only clue right now is the taste in my mouth, batteries simmer on my tongue, pores expel unwanted acids. SHIT. i think the walls have the color of a september overcast sky. 7pm, the peachy flesh is resonating a life size model of the sun, the facade is compelling, impressive to my eyes. 30 40 50 seconds, and time isnt linear right now, except for when im staring at these walls.

could i wake up for a third time tonight? pass up the second time, skipping like Hanzel, tat a tap skip. wince my eyes, hear the blood pound on my eyelids, burn those images into your head, son. i couldnt open them right now, no law, no nervous system mutinerie could compell me to do such a thing. could i wake up now with my eyes still shut?