They put me in machines

and tell me it will be okay

but it won't.

I'm stage four.

Terminal.

I've reached the point of

No return.

Day by day I wait

Pointlessly.

There are no miracles

other than the sweet release

of sleep.

Radiated like a bomb

I lay in bed,

head throbbing with meds

to keep me high.

This isn't treatment:

its torture.

There is no therapy:

its useless.

I want to go home;

far,

far

away from here.

I'm...

...feeling tired.

Let me sleep now.

Welcome to dream land

Please make yourself at home

This is a place of rest,

Full of ideas, thoughts, and forgotten things.

Be at ease, you have no enemies here

Follow me, I will show you the town.

Through these gates lies the center of the town.

This is where the fallen land.

It is never very loud, as you can probably hear.

The moon is paper mache, and I live in a gingerbread home.

Keep in mind, when you look around, that things

Aren't always as they seem. Don't yet rest.

If you come along now, I will show you the rest,

You can smell the sea on the edge of town.

The general store is where you can buy all your things

for your adventures ahead. This is only part of the land.

If you talk to the lord, he can give you a home.

He's through that archway, up the stairs here.

We won't bother him so late, around here

He has a lot to deal with. The rest

of the town can cause quite a stir. Home

is where the heart is, as I always say, but the town

never seems to be satisfied. Their loss. Land

around here is scarce, but we are happy with our trinkets and things.

This town is built of thrown away things.

Matchbox roofs and cigarette walls. Here

nothing goes to waste. In this land,

we take all we can get. The things the rest

of the world throws away, even their lives, are part of the town.

We all just want a place to call home.

Our grass is grown with moonlight, home

is where you lay your head that night. Things

like scraps of paper and memories built this town.

Bed time stories and fairy tales are scarce here,

they get lost in the wind. Our rest

only comes when we can no longer wander through the land.

Your dreams, your memories, and your forgotten things wind up here.

The town bathes in your sunlight, and weeps when you can't find you're way home.

Rest easy now, rest easy. Don't try to run. Don't be afraid. You're in dream land.

Our roots run deep,

Like oaken arms

Sinking into the earth.

Our family holds strong

To each other,

Branches whip in the wind

But rarely fall off.

In the spring

We blossom, fresh and new, often seeing

New life.

In the winter we begin

To slowly die, the cold shaking off our leaves

Which fall like tears against the frozen ground.

It was a long winter;

Branches have been falling

More and more.

But darkness always comes before

The light,

And we will blossom again, for

Our roots run deep.

Tulips blaze in the summer sunlight,

However, shadowed by the coming storm

I see a dark cloud on the horizon.

Seas of the mind boil like whistling tea kettles.

I hear the thunder rolling in on the wind and

See bright flashes like cameras, far off in the darkness.

Now the shadows fall.

Our town screams in silence.

Telephones ring like sirens, echoing in emptiness.

The sudden rain is a blade against my face,

Hearts beat and the ground shakes,

Early morning sun is lost in a veil.

Effigies wave goodbye from vinyl dashboards,

Naked earth is licked with fire and

Death reaches his hand out of the clouds.

I'm writing this as catharsis to try and piece together what happened last night, and this morning (hopefully it's still morning. The time of day doesn't really matter when you're trying to find an Uber that will take home somebody thats mostly naked). Call it a grasping-at-straws "oh shit" list, I guess. 

I could still feel the beer chugging its way into my intestines, so I figured I had about five minutes before I had to go pray for mercy in the bathroom. I thought to myself actually...where is my bathroom? More importantly, where the fuck am I? I never saw this room in my life, and I've seen a lot of rooms in my day. I looked out the window just trying to find a landmark of where I could possibly be, but I recognize nothing. *flush* Ahh, there's the toilet. The door bursts open "Finally you're awake! I've been trying to get your ass up for over an hour, you need to go like NOW. I'm already late for work". Who the hell works on a Saturday morning? Whatever. I asked what happened. "I wish I knew. We were at the bar, I saw you from across the way and struck up a conversation, we hit it off, we separated from our friends, and then shit got weird". Yeah, weird is a good way to put it, seeing as how theres two ball gags and a jar of mayonnaise sitting next to what I could only assume was at one point a wooden horse; now just splinters of painted wood on the ground. I had no complaints on getting out of there as quickly as possible. I grabbed whatever stuff I could find (oh jesus, why is it so sticky) and made my dash for the door. However, my stomach seemed to disagree with my departure time. Failure to launch, buddy. I turned around and sprinted towards the bathroom, barely having enough time to pull my pants down before I sprayed down the entire toilet (you heard me right; the entire toilet. Like when you turn on a hose and it starts running before you have a chance to put it into a bucket and goes everywhere). After soiling the place for a considerable amount of time, I wipe my ass as best I could and tried to devise an escape plan. I grabbed my clothes and considered going out the window. I'm not 14 years old trying to escape from nagging parents. I'm an adult now, I have to act like one. So I decided to basically breach the room with whatever things I could grab in one hand and ran out the door. 

Now here I sit, on a curb in a busy city, waiting for a ride in little more than underwear. The breeze feels pretty good in my hair; I actually wouldn't mind sitting here for a while if every person on the planet would stop looking at me like I just escaped from prison or a mental hospital. Thank god, I can see my ride coming now. They're pulling up to the curb.

Oh shit

So that's who works on a Saturday.