(This is something I wrote 20 years ago or more that I randomly found today. It seems much more like plagiarism now than it did at the time.)
Hi. I'm sorry you're not home, I'll have to talk to your machine. I need to talk to someone. I haven't been sleeping well lately. It's not the dreams, so much as the music. The constant music. It comes to me at night. It's like it comes from outer space, it's like the voice of god, or maybe the devil, speaking to me, singing to me. Even when I sleep it won't go away. I close my eyes, I plug my ears, but it won't go away. Even when I put the blinders on and the cotton in, even when I lock myself in the closet and fall on the floor, the music doesn't stop. It just gets louder, and louder. It becomes more clear, and I can see the notes, dancing in front of my closed eyes, like they were floating in space... rocketing across space, and now they're invading my mind. They're infecting my mind, and they're keeping me awake. I never really sleep any more.
But even that can't stop the dreams! The dreams where the entire city is burning, and I'm swallowed by the mirrors, and the wolf with the red roses says he can keep me young forever... And the music won't quit! But I can only hold that murderous guitar, I can't turn it off, I can't turn it down, and I can't stand the sound!
Can't you hear it? Can't you hear the music? Can't you see the notes, like a plague of locusts in the sky, trying to drown us? Trying to suffocate me. The suffocating music, it comes to me at night. And it sings your name.
So call me, when you get chance. I need to talk to you.
|
