My dreams were absurd, scrambled last night, I know.
Can’t seem to recall any coherent flow-
Or any type of image worth review.
When I awoke, so vivid I could taste it.
Sober reality focused and it was gone.
A flicker across the retina of my mind’s eye.
Try to fire neurons in other hemispheres,
Try to recall that little detail-
A detail you might be creating
Or mixing from other flickers.
Like this poem, excavated from my skull.
It’s something I pull myself to do,
Finding words can be like digging through sand.
Exercise muscle memory:
Hack at doubt’s gnash, by hacking at the keys everyday.
The slob’s doubt has a syringe for an incisor.
Block white noise:
Mary Jane’s euphoric lucid dreams,
Method Man’s hoarse flow in my eardrums.
Read my blue, office rug,
Below the relative humidity and temperature display
And the almanac celebrating Lee’s bicentennial.
A wide Burn on my side from Potassium hydroxide;
The PH in the groundwater is affected by all the damn Pine!
The more I write,
The easier it is to ramble.
I always feel the disconnect,
I always feel the sublime electrocution.
I want to ramble with my eyes wide open,
In the moment, spilling, and tapping.
Worry not about eyes licking the white page,
Worry not about making someone stop;
In the moment, thinking, and reviewing the evidence.
If you are reading this,
If you are offended by this,
Imagine how I feel.