griggs street ...part one
you see, it wasn't that i didn't want to sleep. i was plagued by nightmares. i chose not to sleep.
yes, i'm very nightmare on elm st.
i recognize this.
people would chase me. ghosts would need to talk. fire breathed from walls. blood dripped near silently from doors. i knew i was in trouble when shakespeare started to scare me. the fits that i would be in. popping caffeine pills, chain smoking, endless cups of tea.
me and the keyboard from two in the morning on.
i saw the sunrise from nightfall's point of view. i cast myself in a play of light and alibis. until boy came along.
waltzed right up to me in the middle of our story and said hey, you'll be allright. only god knows why i believed him, but i did. modern love story stopped short by friendship and companionship and a certain amount of understanding.
the evenings we spent, slightly and quietly changing the world from his tattered orange couch in the basement apartment were only real to us. no one else would comprehend when i told them that comfort was my only enemy. that the world was against me. that me and boy were the only answer to their only question.
i knew they'd understand someday, when they were old, perhaps gray. i knew that when their grandchildren were the ones taking care to tidy up their lonely houses, when all but a few of their dearest had passed, when their bodies were worn from years of frivolous use, our voices would be the ones they heard.
