On Waking Up.

Ew. I generally despise second person present tense, but this just came to me. So. Yeah. You can feel like you're reading one of those stupid choose your own adventure books. This one can be called 'Choose your own adventure; Salvador Dali' =)


"There's a wall between yourself and the clarity.
To describe it, one would no doubt call it a wall of mist,
Because that's what they see when they look forward,
But it's a wall of sweat,
Warm and languid.

You're trying to push forward,
But you reach the sweat wall
And it gives like transparent flesh,
Depresses, then rises again
Identical to before.

Furious, you tear at it,
Pressure building in your head,
In your hands, In your mind,
And you start to believe
the wall is real.

You can feel something else now,
Something that starts near the back of your throat
And rises, bubbling to the surface,
Like some biological volcanic eruption,
Travels up, and leaks out red.

Like a switch, you're out,
No more fleshy barriers,
Or mounting pressure,
But now you're out,
And you don't know where you are."

5 and 5, lines and verses. =) I don't like the number 5, but it was 5 or eight, and I couldn't make eight, no dice, no way.

Rah, I'm fairly certain this is the product of too much 'The Knife' and Stephen King.
Oh, and that second last verse isn't about anything deep and psychosomatic. It's just describing a blood nose.
Because I often experience horrible dreams, only to wake up to a blood nose.

Phillipa R. Ellis. =)