The sun reflected off an unexpected window into my eyes at the same moment the thought of you was overwhelming me.

The sun will never set tonight.

You are the sky to me.

I’m sick again.

Where is this thing that you’ve promised me?

I’m sipping your care but in my mind it’s flowing down my chin.

—-

I suck my tongue in remembrance of you.
-Bjork

I was looking in a store window the other night when I noticed something. I could either focus on what was actually in front of me on display behind the glass or I could focus on the reflection of myself and what was happening behind me. Both sounded completely different.

I’d like something quiet.

I had a dream last night about running through the countryside, all the leaves on the trees where perfectly round. Their trunks were perfectly brown. The grass was perfectly green and provided a soft cushion beneath my feet. The sky was perfectly blue. The sun warm on my back. The few scattered houses all had rounded corners…no hard edges and bold, solid, perfectly painted colors. Everything was perfect. Except as I ran, the tree branches kept scraping my face and threatened to hit my eyes. No one was living in any of the houses. I kept switching back and forth between a birds eye view of myself, where everything seemed perfect, to a first person perspective in which the branches scratched at my face. I was simultaneously running toward something and away from something.

I suddenly stopped in a backyard and glanced to my right. There she stood. On her deck. Looking at me. Then I woke up.

If you know what the inside of the lock looks like, you can make the key.