if i could dream forever

The suns get closer and the dawns get earlier, but I can almost taste her again, for the first time. I smell her, even now, through a thousand dreams, past six thousand miles, and maybe one more, through the many days and weeks and someday it will be years, all my dreams meant for those days in our youth, when we were too young to care, those days I’ve spent every one since trying to hold onto, to recreate, with different faces, different cities, foreign languages, and miles upon miles of fiction.

Maybe if I get it right on paper, if I can type the letters in the right order, make the words sing and dance, a syncopated symphony to bring it all back to me.

There are so many days I can’t remember, so many faces I never cared to know, and so I sat on my roof, stared at the stars, howled at the moon, breathing smoke and a promise of better days, ones without blackedout eyes and misremember memories, my life all cutup and rearranged, spliced with dreams of mine and all the ones I’ve heard and lived in from different voices, different hands.

There are days I fall apart inside myself and breathe only those syllables that make your face alive again.

It was supposed to be so easy, but nothing ever is.

Korea’s full of ghosts and they’re processing over the mountains beyond my window in a deep blanket of white.

go to sleep, dear

Just go to sleep. Close your eyes.

There’s a fly in my room and it makes me want to kill myself. I slept for an hour last night because I knew it was in here and he’s still here, watching me with his compound eyes from the ceiling or wall, somewhere I can’t see him in the dark.

A fly, a fly, oh no, a fly! I hope it dies soon because I can’t kill it. That was the nice thing about having a house full of guys through college, they’d kill my bugs for me. It’s not that I can’t, technically, or have some strong conviction in their right to life, but, like, it’s so unpleasant, killing things, and then there’d be the bugdeathjuice on my wall or ceiling or floor and whatever I used to kill it.

I just want it to go away, leave me alone. There’s not room for me and insects in this world.

I’ve been infrequent this month, but there’s been little to report beyond my ballooning sleepdebt. I went to Mokpo for a day this last weekend, which was dope [making that word happen again]. I’ve found where all the pretty girls in Korea are hiding, and it’s Mokpo, randomly. I’ve lived in Gwangju a while now, and, really, I find attraction scarce, which is likely why I can’t take any of it seriously.

Being phoneless doesn’t help. Ever taken a bus across a country to meet someone? I have, but I had a phone in that world.

I don’t know how people functioned without phones and internet. I’d be useless in that world.

I’d name the fly if I didn’t hate him so much. I’d name him Archduke Archibald and write a song about him. I’d sing it until his exoskeleton collapsed upon him and he turned dry and dead, like a giant mote of dust.

So it goes. Another sleepless week.

I made another plan and if I can keep my head on straight for a few days, I’ll implement it.