Some nights, it is just better to stay awake and write then to fall asleep and dream.

At least when I write, I can change the text, whereas in the dreams, the ones that could possibly come true, I cannot change, except a letter, or two, in random places.

So tonight, I write!

I stood outside in the field, the darkness embracing me, keeping me company.

I knew not what I was, but I was, and still am.

I am lost, somewhere, everywhere, nowhere, I feel nothing but everything...

There wasn't a plan, never was, just living life as it was our last day, we would cry, till there

were no tears left to cry, then settle onto the ground, hearing our breath escaping from our body.

In.

Out.

Soon, the world was spinning around us once more, as we stayed in place. 

"Where are you?"

Voices, around me, asking, telling, speaking, whispering, shouting, screaming, dying on the vine, then nothing, silence.

I can't stand my own mind, my own body, spirit gone, life wasted, who are we to question anything?

Stood up, reached up, danced around fiercely, the tears are gone, the weeping is done, I cannot laugh.

The technicians are drunk, killing off the world, one by one, keeping alive the madness, to keep the machinery going, grinding, tearing, killing, repeating the process, silently, loudly, we all begin, we all end, there is no stopping, beginning, just moving forward,  forward into the teeth.

Grind!

Grind!

The teeth grind us into bitter waste, tearing us into dust.

I cannot bear the silence, cannot bear the loudness, cannot witness, cannot see, cannot hear, would not hear, the times are going, passing me by, whispers flowing throughout my ears.

Tunes inside, singing out loud, no words.

According to the world, this will get easier, up a hill, down a valley, into a river, to drown, to gasp, to fight the waves to the shore, where the gun men stay, waiting to shoot me dead.

Talking to myself, whispers in the dark: Names, dates, all mixed into a toxic dream that keeps repeating, nothing seems to help, the doctors all say I am sane, keep moving, don't stop, don't look back, forward, forward, ever forward, wake up, don't listen to the nightmares, fiction, purely fiction.

Henry, my friend, where are you now that I need you?

Dead.

At sixteen.

Forty one, still a few more months or years to the grave.

The darkness wishes to envelope me, hold me, embrace me, I want to dance in the middle of the night, holding her, embracing her, kissing her, making love to her under the pale moonlight.

Silence in the middle of the night, no tears, no sighs, perfect quiet, seamless stockings on the midnight hour.

Damn you life, damn you death, help! Where are you?

No sounds, no reply, this is the best part of the trip, according to the doctor at the free clinic.

"No meds my friend! You are okay, just keep moving, straight ahead, but watch out for the wall, it comes up quick!"

Stupid doctors, with their terms of endearments, they keep asking, "How do you feel?" I feel fine, I feel great, soft pillow under my head, cozy blanket for my body.

Where was Jack?

On the Road?

Heading west, out west, warmth, walking on the beach?

Dead, nothing left but some words, would that be all I would leave?

Words?

Nothing more, possibly?

More than possible.  People were dreaming on the land where their father began and they shall end.

Night comes, darkness still there, waiting, to hold me.

Nobody knows what will happen now, will they grow old?

Or blow away like dust in the wind?

Some people stand outside, waiting for a bus, to run them down; they do not get out of the way, standing there, staring straight ahead, worrying not for want, just standing, waiting, no fear, nothing, this is the end?

Possibly.

Choices to be free, to be dead, to be alive, choices in the way to get out, to be free, walking a thin line on the edge, one misstep, fall to your death.

Pieces of life spread to the wind, to collect in the sky, to fall to the ground, to grow a tree, or block out the sun.

The tourists wander in, smile, take a picture, walk away, leaving the scene, polluting it with their cackles, with their songs.

Pieces of peace, black light on the soul, revealing all, revealing nothing, crap on the window sill, old man weeping for lost children he never fathered but who haunt him forever, just outside the door.

The doors of perception closed, nobody outside, knocking to be let in, mindless wanderings on a deserted beach, hometown blown away by an atom bomb.

Reach, reach into the sky, pull down the stars, blanketed by them, the moon as a pillow, sleep forever, never to awake, never to stir, the silence of the universe screams out...

I shall not look into your eyes again, I shall never forget your smile, never forget you....sweet embrace, lost in a romance, wishing for one last kiss, one last taste, love, making love, giggling, laughing, sighing, dancing in the summer rain, embracing each other, holding one another, one more everything.