This is the last one for the night
for I hope to dream the black on black;
I hope to fill the hapless void with happiness.
The edge of execution keeps my nerves quivering
even as I stand on the ledge. A nightmare is
beneath me: a wave-torn craggy beach, a bottomless
ravine. What is beneath me is not for my eyes.
My eyes shall only look up and forward.

I await the knock at the door.
I await the paranoia to return and leave
and come back again. Fingers like digits on a stopwatch.
There’s no stopping now. I must acknowledge the
flooded lands this October downpour has brought us
and poisoned life from the source. Muddied, the banks
of reverie and release are swept beneath brown waters.
The deep emerald of life carried down the river banks.
There is no end to the flow. There are only ways to
slow it down before the ledge becomes a waterfall.

Instances collapse on themselves.
Creation is boiled and served cold.
The bitter taste of metal lines the lips
even as I purse and lick them from
within. My eyes are sharp and focused.
It’s time to let the dreams come,
I’ve had enough excitement
for one night.

—

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“Dilate” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.