most nights i try to figure out how to speed
up lars von trier's film: melacholia...
this grand orb seems to be moving,
ever so slow -
there is enough time for work,
there's enough time for retirement,
there's enough time for a childhood -
or the montage horror without it -
there's enough time for a holiday,
for hobbies, for passions,
for as much sex or as very little...
there's enough time for dates,
there's enough time for going to the movies,
there's enough time to become
a restaurant critic alongside serious
journalism of yesteryear...
there's enough time to learn to polyglot,
to polymath,
as there's also enough time to become
the piss sodden bum happy
to live out a life: imitating Diogenes...

nights, my god, are the slowest windows
of "opportunity" -
not even watching the ultimate
trilogy - the only trilogy they would
never fuck with: back to the future...
and still: the endless night...
a night without a decent amount of
a night-cap and you can break into
a cold sweat...
in between the movies i just sat there
in the garden...
i had to say these words out-loud...
thinking wasn't going anywhere -
the lazy tongue had to agitate the air
with the ancient audience...
'i must be dreaming,
for so long, i have not seen so many stars!
perhaps this is merely an exaggeration...
but night sky: you seem to be more
like something a London costermonger
would wear!'
perhaps i was just imagining...
but it was true -
not even at Glen Coe did i see
so many stars...
3 ciders to battle the cold sweats
i decided to sleep while the sun sought
its palette to call morn...
1 hour... perhaps 15 minute interludes
of "sleep"...

how long was i awake for?
over 24 hours...
and how long am i awake for while
writing this? close to 40...
wide away... perhaps i gave a yawn...
sometime in the afternoon...
i once bound myself to teasing my cat...
yet he still dutifuly comes and sleeps
in my bed like the persona non grata
he wants me to treat him as:
at first, before getting used to
the odd movement among the static
books...

yet today he saved me, somehow...
i had to dream the most awful dream...
how can one even rest, sleep,
when one is sacrificed upon
the altar of dreams?

what could possibly exhaust the person
sleeping more than an uninvited dream -
some sort of celestial rape joke
about fucking someone in the head?
i can only describe the dream
as a little horror that was asking
questions - she - she always insisted upon
knowing something the person
she was sucking into her vortex
wanted to know - but they didn't...
and it was set... in a gamers' mansion...
the little horror had nothing grotesque
about her: she was only a pale range
of hues all bound to dust...
dust and soot...

and the way she would move...
and cling to you...
asking you the most profound questions -
like some warped crossword puzzle,
a sudoku puzzle that didn't involve
the digits 1 through to 9
but rather... letters...

very much akin to how the ancient
romans managed...
to build... with no concept of numbers...
beside I(ota) χ (chi)
V and depending who
you ask (Λ - lambda,
ν - nu / υ upsilon)

the "concept" of either O(micron) and θ(eta)
didn't give birth to 0 (zero...
eros on the zzzz - snooze)...

the book of revelation cites a beast with
7 heads...
I V X L C D M -
i count seven numbers...
after all... isn't the book of revelation a massive
crossword puzzle of sorts?

what was once Trojan and passed through
the hands of the Greeks...
and became Roman in those people's own
myths... Γ (where now stood L)

you must excuse my insomnia -
i mean... 24 hours is not bad...
but pushing toward the 40th hour is
a bit sketchy -
perhaps i am merely dreaming awake -
perhaps what these words are...
are the sort of words i could clearly
see if i could, clearly see, words in dreams...

i'm pretty sure Belschazzar didn't see
the words

- mene, mene, tekel, upharsin -

in a dream... perhaps he binged for
far too long...
and there came a dream rupture...
aren't dreams akin
to lysergic acid trips in a safe environment
of sleep?

every time i dived into the scenes
with the little horror
i would suddenly be jerked awake by
a sharp electric shock / spasm...
as if to tell me: you're awake this moment,
to the depths we'll drag you the next...

i was only saved from the little
horror by my maine coon cat...
he guarded me in the dream by lodging his
head beneath my chin
nudging me and talking to me
telepathetically...
the little horror seemed to be afraid
of cats...
since the dream soon faded away
and i woke up drenched in sweat
and shivering on a cool august morning...
we are in the month of august,
aren't we?

well kids... better learn something you...
did you know that sleep deprivation
can mimic the effects of certain
psychadelic drugs?
aren't all dreams supposed to be
psychadelic remnants of:
well if we're going down the route
of alt. pop evolution
that... a fungus decided to invest
in a brain of a monkey...
and is now steering it to a brighter tomorrow?
who the hell needs to cite
the circus of exploration
from the 20th century?

some of us lived under a rock of communism
until recently...
the rest had the whole party-hard
mentality when we were living in rubble...
now that we're awake...
the party-hard folk are starting to slip
from the reality they left us
and are sinking into something worse
than the communism the slavs were exposed
to...

the former east germans have an inkling
into the matter, somewhat...
they too were under the grand umbrella
of mother russia...
and to think that they first tested
communism on a social slace in all places...
in... Mongolia!

if this is what numbers looked in latin:
I V X L C D M -
then i guess they must have been
borrowed from something
looking a little bit like greek, so:

I Λ X Γ K Δ M...

one sentence then...
i could make demands, like (a) veering xystos -
to suddenly open up
and not be... a covered garden walk...
suddenly...

anything to get these words in...
perhaps less a sentence
and more: specific words...

Idea - no... nothing so specific...
i'm still focusing on the fact that...
what they ancients could build was beautiful...
and they had seven letters also used
as seven numbers -
we have 26 letters and... 10 numbers...

what a "strange ratio"
3.71 and... well 0 isn't really a number...
if 0 is a number...
V
VI
VII nope... can't see it coming...
VIII
IX
X

so more like 26 / 9 = 2.888888888888888888...9
to found of... what essentially
becomes the burden of:
when theta fucked omicron and out popped
baby jesus year 0.

oh yeah... sleep deprivation is just like
taking drugs... the language becomes more...
dream riddled...
if i was truly high, i would have said so...
or rather... i wouldn't have...
drunk? m'eh... my nightcap...
but a sleep-deprivation cycle
tickling 40 hours?

and i'm still not hallucinating?
what i am, "hallucinating"
is a memory of a dream,
i always seem to have to encounter
dreams as memories...
i'm never exactly rested to begin
with to be: matrix major major neo
involved in the whole disney /
h.p. lovecraft bollocks...

in most dreams i can't see:
but at the same time can,
i most certainly can feel -
and by feeling something envelop me
i can actually SEE by touch...
i most certainly hear -
but i hear in a way that suggests
a sleeping telepathy in me -
after all... this is not some drug experiment...
if... sleep deprivation is...
"a drug experiment" -
why else not surround yourself
by an animal that deems sleep to be
of the highest esteem...
imagine dragging your cat into your dream,
or rather: your cat wanting to find you:

you did let him out at 2am...
and he didn't come back home till 6am...
perhaps i once had vivid dreams...
even if i had...
are they supposed to be put on
herr doktor freud's couch for
those rich tourists of the mind of the 19th century?
are they, puzzles?
or are we to believe that only
one man dreamed... well... perhaps three...
or a 4th notable mention...

does language have to be this fodforsaken
straitjacket?
if it has to be... i'm not going to fit into
that new one they're trying out in San Francisco...
i'm just tired of a culture that only
seems to have read... 1984
and brave new world...
some some other sci fry monstrosity...
bad for the people implementing
the prophecy...
even worse for the people who are
hysterical about the prophesy being
implemented...
the Cassandra Paradox...
all the lunatics woke up and saw...
they were dreaming a dream
of the many left-over sleep-walkers...
that's how prophesies work, don't they?

before a prophesy's truth is acknowledge
as truth, it has to pass through
the sieve of concensus...
and by the time a democratic concensus
is reached between the gnostics,
the agnostics, the atheists, the theists,
the sceptics, the cynics etc. -
well... Cassandra already said:
be damned if and be doubly damned if not...

nothing worse about a certain future,
than having to become all hysterical
about not being part of it, yet...
there's always that: not yet...
wait for it... not yet... wait for it...
i'm pretty sure some cosmic force would
never force the people who waited
for something, having to subsequently
live through something other people
never or would never have waited for.