12 String Dreams Journal
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2001-09-23 10:19:43 (UTC)




I jump from my uncomfortable bed and fly across the empty


I fumble anxiously, knocking over cans and spilling

The thought of light never crossed my mind. It came as no
surprise within the darkness that I stood that the light
might shine some light on the subject. Maybe the subject
would reflect the light and shine on my heart.

I pull the shade and lift the still ringing receiver.


"What are you doing?"

"What do you want to do?"

A strange feeling of dejavu overtook me.

"Hello?" I ask

"Are you busy?"

"Do you want to do something?"

"What do you want to do?"

Why does this all seem so similar yet more different then
change itself. What is the driving force forcing me to
think or driving me insane?

I want to speak. I want to cry. I want to scream "I Love
You". I sit quit and await the end of the conversation.

The familiar click of the distant receiver echos in my ear.

"I Love You" I finally found the strength to say to the
empty line.

Good bye.