1 We are introduced to Drey. When he speaks, you can hear other voices inside his words.
The Dream is what he likes to call himself. I see The Dream in the hours between the birds greeting the sun and my roommates rising, beyond the shadow of a doubt. (Last night, I was handcuffed and dragged off to jail, sobbing inconsolably.) I feel the spongey wetness of my face. He sold me out to the cops.
I heard them talking.
When he speaks, I hear other voices inside his words, like the mad choir of the damned.


2 In a dream, Drey tells Muslin to cut herself up, for my pleasure. Drey wants me to want this, and Muslin indulges me and him.
You'll walk toward the house, admiring the peeling paint and the splintering wood and the cracked glass windows. Push your hand through the glass in the window. Good. Now, run the shard down the length of your arm. Let it dig. I will let the blood pour from you. He'll like that. Stare directly into his eyes. Let your blood pour out. Let it flood the room. You can taste your brain.


3 I wake up. What was that dream about? She was beautiful.. and I felt horrible.
Where am I? What time is it? Should I get up now? It would be nice to keep sleeping. What was that dream about? I think she was beautiful. I felt horrible. But I want to go back. But I can't. Her embrace will stop the feeling, and my embrace will stop the bleeding.


4 I'm awake for the day, but I can't shake the feeling that things from my dream keep trying to rip out of my subconscious.
In the trees, birds rise at the crack of dawn to yap and yawn and irk my dog. In my bed, my legs twisted in the sheets and still asleep, good morning. In my mind I've said, "I'm not getting up," and punch the clock, and fuck right off. In the sky, the sun beaming down on me, a copper sheen, a brown penny. The trees flutter in the breeze, so painterly, so quaint, and in space the sun is bright, and I can get some peace and quiet. One. Excused for lunch, I would eat but for, the thought of it, turns my stomach. Muselin cut itself up for drey, and I, a torn ribbon, a bow hair frayed. It's not cloudy. It's consternated. It's not overcast. It's saturated. It's not obvious. It's obfuscated. It's not clever. It's complicated. It's contemplated. Should have stayed in bed, but I'm here instead. Wishing I were out at night. This day can just write-off.


5 I go back to sleep that night. I toss and turn.
Going to sleep sucks, but I've got to get up in the morning. My stomach hurts. Tense my legs.. Stop squirming, kid. Fall, fall, fall asleep, I'm tired. Fall, fall, fall asleep, please, fall asleep. Fall, fall asleep. Please. Please.


6 The dreams I have, about drey and Muslin, and where I'm taken.
Snowflakes, sweetly, wholly.
Blowing, fading, glowing.
Quickly, slooooooowly
Floating, soaring, roaring.
Empty, filthy, pity.

I ask you, or implore you, see beyond what he drew with his tears of black paint. Behind this, a brackish feint, an indulgence, a sight. A little streak of red and white to lie behind the lines he drew. He only wants what's worst for you. And drey.. he comes.

A deception of a simple shadow. He'll be gone when you get older. Snowflakes melting in the fire, sweetly smoking fruits of labour. Holy mountain send us higher. Quickly falling out of focus, detached retina slowly show us. Slowly open. Hocus-pocus. Blowing open dusted pages. Glowing incantations save us. Floating in the white abyss, I'm soaring in the white abyss, I'm roaring in the white abyss.

An empty vessel. Filthy gestures. Pitiful.

I hear you, and I see through
the double lines that drey drew.
*breath* his crocodile lies,
seeping from his swollen eye.
*breath* oh muse, muslin, sing
a telling song of white and pink.
*breath* What do I need to be
to overcome his worst for me.

I'm only sleeping.
He isn't here.
Should it be light out
if you are near?
Now when I see you,
why are you clear?
Why be transparent,
why be a glow?


7 Drey comes, tells me to make him real, the way he told Muslin to cut herself up.
Can you hear me? Good.
I'm going to tell you the truth. It might.. hurt.. it might hurt your ears.
But you deserve to know.
Muslin is... beautiful, yes. She holds your heart.
But look at her. Look at her. She's fibre. She's gossypol.
I might not be a friend, but I am truthful.
A shadow keeps your feet on the ground, you know.
Don't go.

I am true. Of course, you can't prove it.
I am a part of you. Of course, you can't do anything about it.
I only want what's best for you. Of course.
You like these dreams. You like her blood.

Muslin is... beautiful, yes. She holds your heart.
When are you going to let her go, mmm?
When are you going to let her back to me?

We're really tight;
muslin and drey. muslin and drey. muslin and drey. muslin and drey. muslin and drey. muslin and drey.
(laughing)
muslin and drey. muslin and drey. muslin and drey. muslin and drey.
(laughing)

We're both yous in a halo.
She will taste you.
I will swallow.

8 Drey eats me and I don't wake up.
drey eats me and I don't wake up.
my body is falling from the clouds.
cop cars racing the streets beneath me,
burning dust down township road 380
i tense my body and squeeze out an energy
to repel the force of gravity
but i can't float
who can float?
an instant before i touch the ground
with the outstretched tip of my innermost toe
i press all of my strength and will and delight
into the ground
swinging my arm from the shoulder
i slap the earth
and propel myself upward
high into the air till the ground is faint
and indulgence, a sight
arcing upward and forward i remain aloft
  hoisted by the wires of lucid clarity
  lifted by the tide of the moon's gravity
  brushed against the cosmic bubble factory