from the collection of: m. gantee
There is a question as to the validity of my aliveness. This is not a question as to the validity or even feasibility of my life – this is not a question of politics. This is a question of the validity (and not feasibility at all) of my aliveness.
I wake and it’s dark. I’m suddenly awake.
I sleep and it’s dark. I’m suddenly asleep.
The dreams that come are scattered like constellations of city streets and forgotten acquaintances. Pleased to make your acquaintance, we’ve said in one life or another and offered un beso on one check and un otro beso on the other cheek. And then I wake. And, again, in the dark. Suddenly. And then I go, a drive that seems haphazard and reckless at times. A workplace that seems echoing with lost meaning – a machine more alive than myself. Exhausted, again I fall into bed. All dark all the time.
Alive? Dreams? What dreams may come. Do you know this cycle? Do you know my cycle? Please say yes. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.