and I’m not coming back
I want to live in my dreams
because I think the dayworld might actually be the nightworld
And the night the day
And I would rather live there in my boxcar, with boxers jabbing through open slits between bars on my windows
Than pay my taxes and drink Echinacea when I’m sick and clean my toilet
In the box I close my eyes and imagine I’m flying
and I am
I had a dream last night I was talking to a headless man
His face was on his t-shirt and he had two dogs
And I liked his dogs but I didn’t like the man
(Thank god for dogs!)
but I still prefer headless to the heartless, deboned tin man of modern existence
to the drumming in my hands and pockets
I’m crammed full with ice!
Each time I wait I feel a new nail pinch into my concrete sarcophagus (and how it pains me to keep making the same mistakes!), but why wait to be dead to sleep?
Not me, I’ve decided to wander far away bloodless from my bedrock of a body
to tear my soul loose from the rusted nails and pull it along like a kite
I don’t want to die, all I want is to dream
and to never wait again.