observations of a fictional mind

The warm white noise of endless highways, riding into infinity on the back of a Harley, tasting pieces of heaven between my newly sharpened teeth, fanged fresh from the orphanage. Whispers cut from baby-breath in the dark follow me at night.I imagine raindrops of sound, falling and forming pits that fossilize into a documentation of this temporary transient brilliance. Who birthed me with this head full of holes? Empty of holes, should I say? Should I say anything at all? No, stay silent and fall into the shallow ears of shells that line sleep's shore. Marching in my bedclothes. Caped crusader, watching everything going about loud, loud, loud, in expectation; everything sighs, missing and waiting, impatience for the beckoning. Pigeons swoop from the underpass. A million stars make up the city's glow in the dark violet-blue jewel swell of the night. Yawning on furniture, humming as fog rolls over to bury our vibrations beneath its haze of captured metropolitan light. The whole earth has tilted and I have lost my reason to look now. I am weak, napping, crying softly, yelling loudly. Head aching and I can't listen to Unchained Melody and keep my face dry at the same time.