Waltz of the Flydragon

Had something. Then I didn’t. Then I did. Still not sure. All I know is I was mad/upset about something at the time. Also, “fly” ‘cos its usually considered insignificant, but a dragon isn’t…Yeah…Get it? I tried.

And I this still needs work.

Waltz of the Flydragon
JCD Kerwin

I pound fists against the wasteland like I’m beating out the reflection on the windowpanes, the reflection I don’t want to see that the world keeps shining back; the one I want to make fade into a thousand shattered Neverwases and Yestermemories. I phantomdream. I phantomdream in the claustrophobic every days, silently dreaming everyone’s pandemic voices into some sort of half-assed remedy for the moment’s pain. I make-believe. I make-believe of happy fucking butterflies and hackneyed, skipping stones gallivanting across Walden pond made tepid and trivial in every grownup’s dead and buried imagination. Maybe I will take a boat and sail, stop and drop an anchor, and wait until the whole damn vessel sinks. The dead water to carry us home like all the ships before.… (The sea maiden and me: We will dance in suspension like the frost fish.)

But I am not finished.

I light up cities and jump-start my own heart, shouting at gods like I’m Oblivion. I will stare at you with glowing irises, like I am captured, freeze-framed in the night by a thousand spotlights. Catch your own lost dreams within my eyes; count your memories and fairytales within the spark. I make supernovas collide. But someday when I’ll dance on cosmic stars, you won’t see because you never opened your eyes. My heart will skip beats and you will miss it when I leave the room, miss it when I grab hold of whatever dragon I dug from whatever faraway mountain I dreamed, once upon a time.…

Now I inhale, breathe ink dust, and explode.

(August, 2013)


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