Nightmares are also dreams Part 28-Interlude

I look around at the small group of men. Disheveled, dirt and other offal staining our clothes and faces. I’ve never met them, but apparently they are with the Circle, which led them to my door earlier this afternoon. Apparently, I’m on some list somewhere as a safe house. Nevermind that I just do the accounts.

I’m watching them watch me as I code in, just as protocol was drilled into me.

I hang up and wait for the callback on the secure phone. I smile and ask, “Can I get you gentlemen anything? Juice or an apple?”

They just stare at me like I’m not even here.
Ugh, save me from the knuckle draggers.
The phone rings and I punch in the last code. So paranoid but most of these criminal types are. Except the cartel guys. They are mostly cheap swagger in bodies mommy didn’t hug enough.
But, the jobs the job.

I hand over the phone to their de facto leader and exit the room. It doesn’t pay to overhear these conversations…well, it doesn’t pay to be Seen to overhear. But I can hear quite well through the bugs planted around the office.

“Sir, they took the transhipment point down. A half dozen of us only made it out because they were paying more attention to the product rather than looking for hidey holes,” Mr tough guy says.

I can hear some response but nothing specific.

Mr Tough guy’s starts yelling, “No sir. NO! These guys were military, it wasn’t cops. They didn’t ask for surrender, they just started killing us. NO! This Was the only option. The last two safe houses had ambush teams waiting. We barely made it out alive. We lost half the survivors just making it here.”

I look over to the ambush team waiting at the other entrance and raise my glass of chilled peach juice to them. It’s so nice to work with professionals. People who know that it’s just business and are willing to accept the realities. Plus, who turns down half a million dollars for 10 minutes work?

“Yes, Sir. Yeah, all good. We’ll be at hanger 12 in 2 hours.”

As soon as he hangs up, the ambush team busts down my mahogany doors and swarms my ex-employers.

The CKD(Chief Knuckle Dragger) looks at me like I shot his puppy. I just smile and shrug. And he smiles back.

What’s that ringing? I look at my new employer and they are holding a silenced pistol on me, why?!

“No one who ever profits from this. Orders are orders.”

I seem to be sitting down. How did I get here?
My juice has spilled….that’s gonna stain…
I don’t remember adding strawberries to the mix….

No flash photography

Partial phrases atop half written lines
Skin touched to bare metal until it burns
That dizzy feeling when your eyes close and your only thought(hope) is sleep
feel of a hand in yours
The loosed lips promise
taste of whiskey brushed breathe on a tongue filled with knives
Silent smiles of which novels are written
Trashy fan fiction
Steals the light
Packaged and sold for a broken minute
Jacket blurbs
Bland
deleted pages
Ripped away in the dull habit of dreaming

The stillness of a cat approaching his mate

I stop and I start
Wishing and planning and hoping
Waiting for
That maybe
That wink, that nudge, that smile
That yes
That you
You I choose
And words tumble out
Wishing for wanting
Knowing and needing
But quiet
Because speaking about seething volcanic mountain of my love
Scares

But I am not built of silences
If I’m quiet, it’s because I’m thinking
Or assessing
Or deciding
never for punishment
Never for spite
Always one second from a silly song
Ready to wear my joy on my lips
Dancing on the edge of your tongue
Even as the dark clothes say somber
The dark roses say yours
Do you but speak

Hands reaching out, seeing with eyes and wants, No love, no peace, no pathway bright and shining

You see these pictures of pretty
Wondering what works
What’s petty
Wondering how to get to that beauty
Wanting a taste without mercy
Never wandering in the mind about
The journey
Between waking to this yearning
That shapes a soul into pretty
What sacrifices to the dark gods of
Hunger, of
Hurting, of
Never being quite enough
One more run
One more set
One more murky, dubious concoction
So healthy
You state your desire like it’s worth this path paved in blood
Like you deserve the barren fruits of this
Toil, this labor
You think only to eat the fruit
And tasting its flavor walk away
One more taster
Never working hard enough to savour
The seeds lie at the heart
No saviors
Waking from freedom
This salivating pulsating driver
Slaver
Making fools feel free
To make ignorance in favor
Last flavor
Poison memories
No puppet me
Breaking free
Bound on the ferris wheel
Tied to the carnivale
One more turn
Pretty, they hold their hands to their mouths
Like they can taste what painful route travels through the veins
Mistaking the grimace for pleasure
The gasps and breathless groans for desire
And always thinking, so pretty
They can’t see
Blind to beginnings
Blind to the journey
They take
And take
and take
Until
Whats left?

Reflections are merely doors, I’m willing to step through

I have only sad words and hopeless thoughts today
Trending in this down spiral
Reaching for a touch to anchor me
Words of lament masked in strength and laughter
Wanting that kiss, that hold that seems too far distant to ever be real
And still, I dream
And still, I wish
Not in hope
But in planning
Waiting for the last word
Last turn of the card
To make what seems
Into what is