Dream Walking Savage

Original Art by Harry Palacio

Dream Walking Savage…. Fluffy, pink panther fuzz fill the gaps in my brain. I wake up to dream. The TV is a mindless mass of uselessness. “We’re here to go. On route to a space station in the galaxy,” were the words spoken by beat urchin William Burroughs. I know how I got here, actions then consequences. 4:30am, I’m so wired. Sitting in my room, I feel the tightness. I need something else, something tangible, it seems like my head is about to explode. People think it’s a closet when I take web photos from here. I close my eyes and open, rinse and repeat. I remember my first bad experience with pot, smoked on a couch at some so and so’s basement. My girlfriend at the time was probably kissing some other boys. An endless sea of betrayal at my bedside haunts this broken love. My anxiety faded as I sat and smoked dug deep within a trench of masks. The dude next to me was an illusion catering to the wakefulness of a sadness I cradled tight among the forest of still hanging wisdom. I don’t want to remember that night. I got so high I just laid down and read the tired horses’ lips confined and broke laying like mattresses. The windows to my consciousness were shifting and rotating. The ins and outs were registering odd lapses in time and I was stoned and derailed. A long time ago, I was like this. I coped with my social awkwardness through drugs and introspectively escaping in a mind stream of books, music and art. The latter is still relevant. Does it hurt the quiet within that measures the memories with a heavy hand. I knew something was wrong but I couldn’t stop it. Once you come to the brink of insanity, it’s just a matter of finding the key under the mat. I fixed my smile for you and she walked out the door again and again, always the same but with different faces and treelike bodies. The scorn of the outside turned in knives unsheathed bearing down on my everything but she kissed me and I smiled again like before. There is no way I could come back from these things, the same I mean. This story lies within the frame of my mind. I built this dream. I have always wanted more, I could possibly be hurting myself as I continue to well up these thoughts but it is from the well that we drink providing the beauty in delicate epiphany. For posterity’s sake I divulge these memories, in some strange way, I feel I will enjoy myself greatly. Dust collects in those obscure places where she peers over her book and asks “do you love me still”? Hiding in the moonlight hour connected to the spurs that wrack the tired horses awake, shivering in the cold madness. This is merely a mirror into my psyche. It is so simple as I pull back my heel, memories sputter forward easing the blood flow through and fro. Some days are perfect. Free from the intermingling of a fuzzy understanding of a pseudo reality confirmed by experience and books. My worries concern the reliance on a future where I can see clearly. This great weight that gives me sight, buries me. We’ve come so far and the shade clears my mind as I wait for the slow cool of my heart. Why try and why bother. Time is a place, yet its reach is beyond the extent of our understanding of consciousness. Somehow I lost this coveted youth, this conviction yet found anew the light irritating my eyes. could be anyone. I could be passing you by at a cafe as you are suffering the task of reading this. I have pressed my history into a few secretions of scents, a room lavishly filled with the aroma of memories; saved in perfume bottles. The consciousness of being trapped. This internal battle limits me. Once I start to believe that perception is bleeding through what is commonly considered reality you say I am reformed but what do they know! Coiled in a bag of rich textures and scents. A brutal psychedelic, loosened and soft. Tearing my mind; searing the neurons. Absorbing. The shake of her breathe like lilac, she kissed my mind. Blew her smoke through me, my space. “Everything is nothing, nothing is everything”, she beckoned. I made no caution with such a victimless statement: I realize now, there is no beginning nor end of time. I am in the midst of a fragment of memories. My soul, caught in a sticky sweet amber spell; warps itself, cuddles with the abstraction of time. My birth was death. Change. I falter off course again. I am transient. The smoke leaves my lungs. She settles her bedroom eyes downcast, as though through my heart. Her gaze presses through my skin; my chest a swarm of butterflies. Flickering between a shot, friendly fire. She makes my pulse. Marks it’s inundations with a bias twist. “why do you loose yourself in this”? Seduced by the moons cutting glazed gravity. I am incorporeal yet visceral. If people could see the depth of realism, there would be no context for paradoxes. There is no need for finiteness in language. I shook off the the flare of synapses interlocking and diverging. I settled the birth of abstraction and divinity into my sinking eyes. My fingers laced with sadness; my bones heavy with the magnitude, quiet and other-worldly. The fire of myth was the very same. Prometheus’ lens allows this. Fits of coughing. Chuckles. Far out reaching eyes. I shared these things with them, with you now as I elongate the segments of lost displaced connections. I am trying to find the connection; the outer worldly skeletal key. She whispers in my ear over and over. Through my brain, I rest defeated. An accumulation of words from the collective mass brings me to a dead-end. I am immersing myself into the collective consciousness. Is it my mental delusions or has the universe opened my eyes? I was blindsided. I grapple with the context of reality. Split mind. They called us prophets, once. Now lunatics. The doors of perception are seemingly easy for me to rifle through. Yet, at times, the burden is an overwhelming weight of dark days and heavy despair. I sift through the astral plane. As the glow of the cherry brightened and dulled. Huge breaths. I was slowly nowhere. In the gaping vortex. The underbelly of thought. The origin of religion. I woke up layered in sweat. Startled by the nightmare that laced my mind. What was I to do now? It was getting progressively worse. You and I were at ends. A looming interference sifting through my brain, screaming a static pulse. I saw you motioning to me, haunting my science; gleaming, wet glue sticking into my conscience. I told you to stay but you pretended not to hear my howling. My mind grave saturated with chemicals. A pharmacology of unseated neurological mishaps. I’ve been on edge. My vision sinking deeper into the nether region of this despair. Closing eyes. Dreams upon dreams. I’m taking more of these herbal ecstasy pills. I can’t seem to shake this anxiety growing inside me, seeping inside the cavernous teeth of my mind. I bit down hard. She awoke me with promises. I have scrawled “help me”, sporadically on my high school notebooks. I still don’t know why. Yet the skyline fracture in your glances are of a peachy consistency. I stretched the pulpy matter there buried deep. Cutting through with my teeth. Within the recess of sullen youth’s awkward eyes. I slept the day; conscious, bearing a coffin hole. I shifted dimensions, again. In my mind, snug. I could not reconcile with the weight of the vortex sucking at my soul. Shaking. Hard paced breathing encroaching me. Inching forward, revealing its thousands of tiny daggers. I have no rest. These smiles are truly unnatural. Mixed frustration like a daze of still shots scattered in unordered sheets. I walk down this hallway and it feels like a different place each time. People jutting by; throwing glances, mysterious eyes, pang! There goes my heart. She sees me. Fierce and soft, tangled tension bearing down on me. I say hi, in broken English. She smiles and tells me, “you are crazy”. I admit, there is no controversy in my mind about that. I was caught in the subterranean forrest in a dream I had the other night. I was lost. I went to sleep to a compilation of music from the Cure and the Smiths. She reads me. Tells me things I cant seem to even understand. At least not yet. She is futuristic and I am an exile of the space time continuum. We seem to fit. Cozy. I am hazy. You are dazed. We shoot back looks. She tells me I’m stupid. “fuck”, I think. I’m her toy. She loves to see me at my near breaking point. I fall for the girl I am talking to. Always. This is how I live. Indulgence. “sit and spin”, are the words I hear her sound out with those pink lips. If she only knew that is how I would want her; to sit and spin, I get unruly. My mind is unmanageable. We hug. I kiss her soft, to the cheek. I want her. That is all I know. Speaking gets hard. As my words get mangled by the thought of kissing her breasts; licking her neck, sucking on her lips. I am a haunter of coffee shops. I am a ghost with physical features, if I may. I am a true junky. I take my fix with sugar and non fat milk. Blood echoes into my brain pulse. Straight. The black brew does not dally nor play bad darts. It reaches the inner cortex and streams about my inner universe. I need smokes and coffee. I function hard. Hand me downs and insides-out. Spent. Spoken words mistaken. Your kiss like alienation. I miss you. She cheats death with a smile. Ill disposed. She lingers replacing the landscape of my cortex. The sun sets and I am entranced. Oh me! Caught staring. Hurled into the brightness. She curls her legs around me. Damaged and confronting the symptoms of Rimbaud’s eternity. Layers of beauty upon beauty. You are my reference. The angles etched with thin dexterous fingers. Your face consumes me. Hair jutting in misdirections. Wild like great lovers’ hearts. I am rendered unfit by the shot of your laughter. Tiny, pulsating veins seeking you out. Down heaven’s highway to my american spirit/clouded lungs. Some might say this is the end. This my friend is merely a cautionary peel. Superficial wounds yet to run its course. I feel it in her stare. I hear it in her moans. Church-state rhetoric, empires that purchase immortality lathered in blood. laundry-mat money. Television eyes screaming prayers of flashing stills. They obey, dulled and sullied by the cost. Jutting down the mainstay. The fat of the land is not mine nor yours. Nations worshiping dead Gods. Happy to get the message out. Unfurled by the suggestion of terminal peace. Scaling the surface. I say fuck it. I knife through, fortunate enough to still be able to come. My brain climaxes. Spurting incoherence, garbled Storied rhine. I am addicted. Day seven: sleepover dazed and lip-ring kisses.
Calling. Sheer moonlight strains. He said” I saw the portal sky but decided I was comfortable here”. Seeker. I, madness? Covet the collective eyes. I see her gazing upon us with magic. Scented dreams and disjointed beams cast and magnify into me. Churning in cyclical phases. These waves crash and ebb mythical changes. Etching my heart’s desires. Set these cautionary stares down as he states the unreasoned carefree highs. You spoke to me divine; cantor so ingenious. Oh! Rigors of such contagious lunacy. The moon coats her teeth with a rhythmic smile. Singing impassioned; sucking the negative of wild hearts divided. And the other side of the moon is holed and unappealing. Dark and reaching into the nothingness of the ether. Are you wounded? Sunken eyes pressed deeper into the grave. I hear your echo, “they’ll try and break you because they are broken”. My heart beat, still: As the turkey vultures crawled through the air effortlessly, as the madness of their eyes’ laughter had taken me, whilst those deep brooding sighs sanctified and destroyed me in paradoxes, as the world turned on its side and buried me. It’s rippling tide edged forward and I shot to greet the madness with fervency. I smiled as this familiar stranger tore my insides out. He handed me my flayed innards and said with his eyes,” I do not dream, why should you”. Creased stares turned flat. These people want my soul! I am deleting my heart. Numbing my fingers with subtle calculated thoughts that stream in and out. These surmounting reasons shake at my psyche. A violence. I conceive the only way I know. Oh! Im a maze. Aflame with periodical stammering. My skull vacuuming the apparently brackish coating off of the astral plane. Off kilter consciousness. I take it. You tell me the things that hurt the most. My smile is lying too. She, breather. Extrapolate expanse in such young language. Elongating a shatter. Seconds as eternity. Memories, non-linear fragments. The blood coursed through. Wild and hurried. Stars fixated on alinement. I whisper Sweet truths. As we decipher the universe; slowly, egging forward to kiss. Mind eyes adjoining in ethereal fuzz. We are the carvings met by the sky’s army. Oh, the indulgence. Mind travelers; as the sun breathes our visions. Conversations misplaced; conceived within folds of awareness. I lust over your pubic scent. I take you in. Heaven spent. I see through skewed river’s eyes; into the tree-like reaches of your mind. Turning warm; squirming with a passionate vigor. I swallow your come; dress it on my finger, mending a wound. Lover, you are future.

Shaking fists pawned. Teeth breaking into an unfixed calm. An upheaval, entranced in the coma. Soma dreaming. There was the sound of the muffled eyes. As the sky opened and arms reached to lift, stretching. weeping willow mirror gaze. Sipping a tea of seeds. everything is nothing. Touching the universe with a velvet kiss. Nothing is everything. My soul was in my mind. The ghost and the shadow. fixtures like stationary eyes seeing anything there was too see, not needing to open.  The pacing, the motion. feeding the tunnel eyes. she spoke, gifting. future like breathing. The seed she said, was filled with eternity. my cautionary touch. I spoke with my mind. Pushing across heaven’s sound-scape. Cigarette smoke dresses the room. Filling the vortex with a neon pulp. I don’t see. I feel. She scales the sound-scape.  Elastic, beats the wings of those messages flown from the reaches no one dares.   What is sacred here;  I, feel.  Truthfully, that is all I know.   My head is raving. The ghost is on my pillow.  The ghost is on the brain.  My legs are cold.  I feel insane.  Do you feel?  Are we on the same walkway.  Or would you hide the pain.  Disassociating; buried in the rain. As I walked past the cemetery with my brother, I saw with a mystic’s flare. Shiny rippling rifts. Breathing in the free-ness. Smoking cigarettes and pulsing on the city floor. Shyness was let out in gales of purplish grey clouds. At this moment I was not burdened. I ate talk. Spoke the fevered minds tongue. Dance flickering flame. Burn bright and delude me. The exertion calls you to glow. Shooting through the lines of my body. I have hungered for this feast a thousand fold. Re-gathering my wits. Amassing my army. Incantations of sleeping ghosts. Speeding the feelings of mother across my subversion. I sink harder. This cutting feeling talks me to ledges. I fool my heart. Penance.  This chord fits the semblance of my drawn and quartered peace of mind. Defying all lights. Alone I hung my head. Refuting these auspicious signs. There was a bird that dampened my hands with feathers and blessed my heart with an unreal dreaming. The fathomless bearer of beauty, truly unique in substance. In my high school years abroad I shut myself up in my mind. Emotions were vacuum sealed, dispersed by deep seeded rationality. Irrational, I perceived my heart to be. When I thrashed my minotaur with a whip of self desecration he was off. Senile with rage and blind hate. When is hate not blind? I surface now in a smoky haze from the bastion of a higher ground. Escalated by bricks and stones. Meat and bones. Chakras and mantras. Dreams. God was my alcove and Om buried my heart to become jewels brilliant in the night air.   Oh yea, back to that bird. She was a harrowing of voices and wind-blown incantations. In my non linear thoughts I was guided with blessed ins and outs. That day I sank in my face a thousandfold. My brow furrowed and veins grew denser. I collected a dedication to her and I was weaker than, so I felt. My high school love. Fresh faced and wild as the bird that hand landed on my hand. Begging for my senses. I was aflame with the heat of the afternoon and the breaks in my heart. I foresee nothing. My wax like dream-scape shamed me. She cut the thread with caustic kisses. My heart beating, pumped that adrenal substance. Endorphins were rejected. I refused to dine on brilliance and love if it was not hers. Danielle was her name, and her name curls off my tongue like a sliver of her sweat. I was brought to the cast iron truth of it all. It was not a finite message from the heavens that I could decipher with my mind; I can not translate the chills that flowed down my spine.  Why she sang so lucidly sure that bird, I still beg to know. I was reclusive. I unnerved myself and locked myself away from the shit storm stabbing my eyes. Dispersing and reorganizing the chemical dysfunction that was burgeoning from my dark skin. No one could tell the crucifixion that marked my desolation. But I had you and my brother. We hung three. Watching the world work its magic trick.  The sparrow marked me with protection. She knew my heart. Diffusion. I don’t know what I am saying anymore. Glued to the banks of night-scapes and gargoyles. I am something to fuck with. Meaningful.  I adhere to the complex notions of time. Take me back, God; to the break in the sea, where the sun shoots and purges the weak and defeated. I speak with your tongue. I pray with a love that I had not created yet flows freely through me. Through us.  True-ness shaking off my fingers.  Smoke free-ness. This ends as I began, dormant; stuck,a surge of venom and I am breathing life. The eyes flash and pupils dilate. She knows me, my maker. I caress the thoughts newborn in my mind….. “I have been since, nowness and ever more. I close these lids and try to feel the sharp light.   Slipping in and out of lives.

I was walking down the corridor packed tight. A stifling warmth exuded from the passer-bys. I am waning back, slowly. Shifting my mind’s eyes. I have locked inside me the calculations of eternity. We all do. I stared outward. Heart center down. My heart is broken as it always seems to be. I shook the many hands that slapped me down. I wake up with anger unknowingly feeding the dogs with my monthly rations of meats and smokes. They’ve gotten so fat, oozing blood and puss. My thoughts are unsettled and grave. They unravel, loosening themselves from my control. I am a pitch black shadow. The holes that gravity sinks into shears the cosmos. I seek you out light With hyper-magnetic force. What else could I do? The suction, soul distortion. I’ve caught this fortress with the grips of my third eye. Siphoning and freely flowing in and out. Motioning upwards. Grasping the emptiness with my open palm. Track marks and moon beam eyes. Wild. I transfix my heart onto the onset of newness. I break slivers off this dancers soul. The ghost lingers and the shadow howls. Midnight squalor and heavy action a midst the brilliant moon’s gaze. A kiss seducing the translucent nectar from your soft lower lips. Buried in a nocturnal dreamers haven. Tight nit, brooding eyes asking for more. As she recoils and shoots upwards. Glistening soft and subtle. My tattoos are bleeding onto the carpet. Onto the floor in a fit of livid frustration. Bats turn outward off my skin. Liquid crawls onto the woods of my mind. The trees blur into a sonnet of tranquility. Oh how I hear your voice-mind sunken and coarse haunting in a shimmer. The bats become ground crystalline glass. My thoughts scurry in a haze of wings beating forward. Precious little lives, pulsing through the sector of my brain. Tentative lovers. She stroked the fixation fervently.   Racked my spinal column with thirst, crucifixion.   I shelter from the rain with a coma-sleep.   Churning excitement, contagiously plastering the beat of our palpations, sweat rolled off my lips and onto hers.   Quick kisses down her back and mine.  Intertwined like the staff of Mercury, seeking the seekers.  The second hand smoke shaking away the leaves, decay.   Trays of extinct neon pulp sanctioned by that saddening look in her eyes, memories coat the line down your back.   I traced your body, three-dimensional drawings.  Emotional cubism, we took our theories to work and ran with them.  Rain soaked the windshield as your tears lubricated the fuses spouting magic.  Rewired madness.   We are youth.  Growing younger and younger as the dust collects around us.   Electric stimuli.  Marred by the denial, as they clip our wings one by one.  If I am next then so are you and vice versa.   I will not control myself any longer.  I will not waver from the vacuous sunken dead-end eyes of evil.   If you do not knock down the newly caked mausoleum of distraction, you are helping its construction, however in avertently . I strike at the keystone of the tower of Babel.    Ignorance.  Let the fallen leaders of the evil empire disperse.   Breathe in the Prana Our rebuttal rips pages from the hangman’s book.  Prying them from his squirmy, thick maggot-like fingers. Eyelids turn heavy from the slaughterhouse café poetry readings.  The salt-encrusted, dryness, wryly entangles us.  Close your dead eyes and see!  We walked down the colonial zone.   Eyes floated, glaring, affixed to the stone speckled ground.  Our paths cross and straighten.  My hand searches for hers.  She speaks, dictating content and context.    Detachment and suffocation cut the fibers of my skin in an attempt to disconnect the multitudes from the blue life force. A subtle chance to look her straight in the eyes will soon collapse.  What am I looking for when they say such things?  She dressed my wound with a cut Aloe Vera piece.    I shot up and compounded the weight of guilt and shame.   I asked her once if she’d look for me in the other life but the notion of love merely rustled a dull bladed attack on my heart. If I gaze upon the stars it is me I am seeing.   Gigantic and open, always wanting to feel the touch of her soft artistic fingers, the galaxy is merely a network of information.   I imagine unkempt nails from months ago from when we first plotted out a course towards perpetual summers. They say speak freely and yet they mean watch your tongues.  They say sharpen your teeth yet they mean slaughter my bloodline.  A mental coup d’ grace. We are to busy being hypophobic: by both fearing and lusting after a blade fashioned by pseudo greed, hyper sex, and golden shards defended by slight of hand.  Our enemy merely scathes the surface of universal bodies.  For they would have us slaves to carry that very blade which gives this evil its strength.   Colonialization of the mind.  I suffer at the hands of those words, droplets of alienation.  Brooding rebels, embittered by false-prophetic synthesis, fearing not death as we tread fluidly through the graven minds, permits us everything.   The cornered eyes of prey will soon fashion shivs of nonparticipation. We must arm ourselves to the teeth and nail, with nonconformity. I wondered why I was made this way. She sees through me. I see through the universe. I asked you to smile as I gave an inch of my time. Folded back and pressed in lunar knots. Coils of my gaze and locks of your dark cinnamon hair spin around, orbiting my eyes. I saw her etch the fire with her bare hands. Candy blew smoke in my eyes and blinded the intentions of all that is good from her womb. What I could think now was that the dawn of all humanity nestled slow between her thighs. I shot up and pounded my head on the low to rise roof of reality. Society tore her attic mind apart and rubbed her upper legs raw. She asked me why? I told her to listen to the rain. The thing is I never knew why those times manifested itself like that but there was something that had me clinging to the darkness. She asked why I didn’t reach for God at those auspicious times and I replied that I had. I could only see myself shoveling my own grave. I woke wet from a mist of the ancient breath. I heard that soon the figment of time will reveal nothing and everything. Truth is concealed by the liars’ tongues momentarily then swallowed back into the belt of Orion. Feast now if you can! I speak struck in a brightened markers shame. Make this illegal as you wish it but to know the truth is not always to speak it. Occult figures dance in the solitude of their secrecy, slowly egging humanity to wake. The sun will set us free. My path brings me to these words. I pray with my fingers I beg with a callous mind for the chance to renew my debt. Fake money, corporate welfare is not the wealth fair? I fear I have been institutionalized, the caged bird sings free. I feel siphoned by if my body would pound out my soul would I remember the sensation of standing even without this physical train? I disperse beaming translucent. Come find me at the end of the universe, I’ll sift the dreams of these ghost until I see your face. God’s eyes are pasted in the seams of realities.

Original Art by Harry Palacio


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