Little King

I would gladly sit on the phone and talk you through this. I'd sit there all night, out in the hallway so my roommates can sleep. This apartment is built like a hotel, all the doors pointing inward to central hallways, nothing opens up to the outside. But I'd sit on the stained and dingy carpet and tolerate the stares of yappy dogs being taken out for late night walks, if it made you feel better.
You'd do the same for me, and have.
It hurts to know you're so far away and that you should be in bed, sleeping it off, not still up talking about tombstone faces. You should be asleep, not on the verge of quiet tears because while 1 am isn't late for me, I always know the time back home.
You sound like nothing so much as a scared child and you bring to mind pictures of a lost pup and I wanna hold on to you so nothing bad can happen and nothing else can scare you because who are you to be so afraid of death? I should be the worst thing that crosses your mind.
And I'm stunned at how these things have changed. My concern for you is less of a lovers worry, becoming something stunningly more maternal. And I think I wanna care for you, rather than about you, because it's easy, though your thoughts become increasingly more complex and dark. And I hope that's not my fault. And I know that's cutting myself too much credit. But, you're drunk and you're afraid of death and 'the storms' and of ending up alone, but you should know that that's not possible. People like you don't end up alone, not on the outside anyway.
You talked about how you feel like a dead animal. How your mouth hangs open like a roadkill carcass, teeth exposed and gums inching back into your head. Such beautifully vulgar imagery I'd like to steal and call my own. But through the darkness of your unintentioned poetry I imagine I can hear tears sliding down your summer reddened skin and I picture the two of us as we are now, sepearte hearts and lives, a love of special friendship. I picture us in your darkened room, I sit on your bed and you kneel on the floor, head resting on my knees. And your mouth may hang open like an opossum or dead coyote but I smooth back your hair and you remember where you are and what future you belong to.

I had a dream

I think it was all the talk about Jurrasic Park last night, or that I've been watching movies with Jeff Goldblum lately, but last night I had a dream about dinosaurs.

I was with a lot of people that I knew, but I really don't know them. There was some sort of break-out of dinosaurs (all carnivores, of course) and we the humans were spending our days running from the raptors. I was at one point hiding on top of a pile of furniture and some other girl kept trying to hide with me. I was not having it, seeing as she kept squealing and attracting the man-eaters. At one point I held my hand over her mouth and said

"If you don't shutup, I will kill you myself."

Dream me is kind of a hardass.

Then the dinosaur stuck his big tooth filled head in our hiding place and I guess he was really dumb because he was breathing all on my face, but didn't see/smell me. Thank God.

I don't really remember the rest, just a lot of running and threatening the stupid 'I belong in a horror movie' girl, but still managing to save her ass. Lucky. There was a dance recital in a really different Craig Hall too. I spent my time there in the catacomb like basement of Craig, dodging dinos and watching ballet.

I don't make much sense.