When you daydream.
You get washed far away from reality so far that eventually it will never be able to touch you again.
You dream of the summer rain, warm and soothing, like tiny sprinkling crystals of honey. You dream of flesh, living flesh, pulsating, bloody, hot flesh that melts you, that almost burns you. You dream of the breeze,that fondles your cheeks in the dreary autumn. You dream ofthousand truths and lies that heat you up, burn you and sear through your veins. You dream of home, of the womb, of the protection, where the sun has risen up for the first time and doesn't let you die in the cold wasteland ever since. You dream of pleasures, and sins. You dream of hate and lust. You dream of souls and connections.
And then it all gets a little chilly, you stop dreaming and tighten your collar. You look around and see the world as you slide through it's ethereal filth. Goosebumps run over your arms and rush down on your back.
A drop hits you, icy little thorn of the clouds; then again, another one, stings your cheeks and cut into your eyes. You begin to speed up when the first cold river traces down your spine. A man comes, coming by he bumps into you, with the short shoulder, punches the air out of your lungs; you gulp the nothing, feeling the emptiness roam up and implode within you, chilling every part of you that it touches. The collar springs wide open,as the wind tears it up, just like a frozen sword, spraying buttons all over the muddy ground. You hear a muttered "Sorry" from behind, looking back you see the running midget grin widely as the algid wind fills you up again. Pain flicks across your whole body. The rain, it covers the world, pouring unstoppably form the eyes of the gray-blue sky; it covers you, too, for you cannot see out of the blanket, you feel lost and abandoned, frightened little sighs break outfrom the prison of your lips. For a moment,in the light of a forking lightning, you see an old hag rolling around in the mud at the bottom of the stairs of the church. You want to help her, stumble across the plash and grab her arm, raising her up. The stench of dirt and wet perspiration makes your stomach churn. You can't see her eyes from the brownish smudges and the muddy hair.You let her go, and as she falls back, you turn around to rush before the swiftly drifting truck.
