Its those times when you think you've got your feet up,
the pockets suddenly get flipped over
and everything is suddenly upside down
and comes tumbling out.
'Dude, your out of control.'
I've lost count of the number of times i've thought that.
Still, late at night i think I see mum walking back
down the road as i smoke outside.
It drives me nuts that I can't cry, I have no tears.
I wonder if its just the green mucus from my nose
that makes my head spin so, i rush off to jobs thinking
it'll go away but it only spins more.
I won't be normal, I can't.
The recurrent dream that started when I was 4.
Maybe it was 5, around then when I dreamt of
a canal of a thousand flying bodies.
Bodies flying in and out putrid mud.
It was that canal on walks to the park that spilt out
into the sea. The one that I flew in and out of
with the bodies watching their tortured upturned
faces covered with drying brown mud.
Something took us high above the canal and dunked us
back into the mud and concrete canal again.
I could see bodies being flung the same way
as the waterway stretched into the distance.
Funny, I never once wondered if I was a body too
when I dreamt it.
Over and over again every few weeks and months
I saw this in my sleep.
In-between dreams or as a dream to itself.
It stopped when I was 7.
I don't know why memory brings this back now.
Or why memory never forgot. The terror,
maybe, the foul-smelling fear must have
been something to a 5 year old.
I had to tell someone, somewhere.
Why here i won't know, but I just did anyway.
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