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Flight Dream

from H e a d G a m e s by Hokes

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about

Dawn broke, but not from the break at sea. Tranced by the orb my perceptions cement, and which the hard stare of my bedroom walls’ usually cracks my awakening, this day break the orb has been carefully dismantled. Few hours past, and those tangled up crystals melt to unraveled sound, lodged in my ear. An empty space I’m swallowed in, gulped by the erratic drips of sewage ink from the desk across the room. Given all this I groove, without a hint of self-incision. This is her room, and for some reason I know that the doll at the edge of the bed was a gift from her grandmother. She wants to groove too, who can blame her. I elevate, and the gust of a female wind from a closed window gets me ahead. Rather than just staring the walls approach me, feet stamped to the ground. The ink blots from the soiled desk turns to fumes of jet black that conquer the ceiling’s ridges. Exhale, crack the 8 foot mantled door in the corner. Down the corridor she grins, eyes blazing in a spinning tundra. She snaps her fingers again, twice, and I read the antidote has surpassed the exchange overnight, and she prescribed it.

…Clamped to skin, the finger of Dali, a butterfly frenzy from his decrepit skull. Eyes to the sky, how she’s made me this high. His nail grows and I fall through heartbeats at sine, undulated from a gong’s cacophony, hanging horizontally from her grandmother’s grandfather clock. The closer I get the more it melts to reflective chrome, splash in a bowl of mercury. My groove settles, pool condenses, and I find myself staring at myself. Spoon in hand, she sits across from me and passes me breakfast. At least I’m back to square one, and all’s it took was a flight dream.

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from H e a d G a m e s, released December 30, 2012

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The Brio Life New York, New York

The Brio Life is a record label and creative house that builds conceptual releases and cinematic experiences through what we call “synaesethetic storytelling.”

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