and thoughts like miniature angels float and defy gravity above me, almost within waking reach but only almost, only almost and they leave a faint impression of what those thoughts would be, fully formed and fertile. so I struggle to wake and push my shuffled music to a higher crescendo than before but the angels instead only lose form and only reveal reality behind their fading shapes. and as I wish for that borderline consciousness again as my music starts to fade into the background.
I think I see you there, a hazy outline, going in and out of focus, a ghost in my periphery, somewhere to my right, somewhere near enough to reach.
like moments after a dream, when you are real enough to touch and just before reality punches through that skin of longing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
