Wednesday, February 5

my stab at enlightenment

so I lie down.
        The first step to *this is knowing how to meditate, by the way. Who actually knows how to really meditate? I think that the kind of person who can be relaxed enough to meditate is the kind of person that doesn't need to meditate in the first place. Come on.

so I lie down
        And try to meditate anyway. My window doesn't close all the way so ugly sounds are leaking through. As I listen longer, I think...I guess...they're not so ugly after all...

I raise my hand to point at something
to look at--I look
at a spot on the wall. A tiny hole.
And I know that if I stare at it long enough, I'll

see the world.

I'll see it in that little space.

I know that if I stare long enough--
the vibrations can push me out.

...they have,
        I'm looking at myself from the side of my bed. I don't realize how my make-up makes my face look--I mean, it's not bad. Just. Huh. Well, damn--so much for being a pretty sleeper.

I think about someone I haven't seen for a while,
and I'm there. I'm in this house.
I remember where he keeps it all--
If I could touch things, I would take everything
into the bathroom
and dump his liquor down the sink
and flush his drugs down the toilet.
No need to be acting this way anymore--
the bad guy is happy about becoming a father.
No need for any of this--
and the good girl...
Well. I'm just sick and hurting everywhere.
"Thanks a lot...good luck." I want to mean it
and write it on his mirror with toothpaste

        I move on. I'm in my house this time. parents house. It's empty, except I know the cat must be here somewhere. Sleeping on my dad's office chair, yes. I'm looking at him. Like, staring at him and trying to will him to wake him up. I thought animals had a sense for this kind of thing. He must be pretty stupid. Then again, he does lick his own ass.

        Next, I end up at a stately apartment building, and I've been here often.
        I walk inside and it's freezing like it always it. (At least, I assume it is. I can't feel anything right now.) He just got out of the shower--the heater is in here--and he's sitting naked on his bed writing something that's making him lean in close. I lean in close so I can read.

And then I cry.
It makes the paper wet. He wipes it away and looks at me:
"Do you like it?" He asks.

I wake up in my own bed,
and I think for a while.
I think, "It's so quiet in here."

*astral projection: an interpretation of out-of-body experience that assumes the existence of an "astral body" separate from the physical body and capable of traveling outside it.

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