interesting; here's my take

east side, right on time
  -or-
wipe and elide

asked chuck if he wanted to jam at the blu-hill, but he seemed non-commital. i told him a

free-form session may rejuvanate both of us, but his eyes beamed skeptical. broke it down

in free-verse and that's when he got down-right septical, practically pointing towards

the bathroom and what may await my presumptuous ass. it was slightly humbling.

after drowning my sorrows in spirits i dreamt, and, and...it wasn't pretty. i saw a

horror film on par w/ 'the hills have eyes' and 'hostel' and it was grotesque enough to

remain w/ me hours after waking. the gist for anyone that bears to read this: a mutant

family has bought a house in the suburbs and recruited certain 'normal-looking'

surrogates to scout and capture victims. i am one of these victims pulled into a garage,

w/ other friends for an ostensible 'party.' knives are shown, people i know are ravaged,

yet i make it out and race to a nearby train-station. i get the cops involved but they

are soon taken over, but the violence leaves the house silent, to which, much to my

mind's chagrin, decide to go in and investigate. inside i find (of course) a secret

tunnel that leads to the actual mutant family and reveals the largesse of their grisly

scale. the end is somewhat cluttered, since i feel both emotions of a violent escape and

violent death; i'm not sure which woke me.

asleep again, different dream. i'm on some sort of camp/group outing and not getting

along w/ anyone; i feel weirdly disoriented, even for a dream, as i sense there's

something i'm missing, something vital to my interactions w/ other dream characters.

somehow, this evolves to me and a few others trying to bond by going bowling. it's not

going well until i notice a bar and think 'white russian.' unfortunately the dream

follows real-life logic by jumping to the next morning where i can't get my bearings and

am repeatedly told i did some dick things the night before, none of which i can remember.

hazily the dream proceeds to flash from me being late to a brunch to a fevered search for

my cabin and belongings to a weird challenge of deep-sea diving that concludes in both

excitement and terror; once again i wake.

semblance is a challenge,
meaning forged in crystallized
sands

intent is inscrutable,
just a text by written
hands

coherence always a problem,
seeming like requisite
plans