I had a brother named Matthew Once…

I dreamt I murdered Matthew McConaughey not once but twice the same man, my accomplice, Jill and I were flabbergasted and on the third evening we relented and did not kill again. I was a spy in the desert, blew my cover in the river, as it dried where I lay I was in a wasteland, some forgotten dream of Persia, sitting in the mind of a beggar, I was caught with the monsters, made to rig like the others broken locks that wouldn’t lock the bathroom stalls from the outside, I sat in the lobby, speaking with Russell, on and on and away into the night, the metaphysics of each other. The Draeger told me I was gifted, fated to know only failure, and spoke of intangibles, cantilevers and cosines. I was rewarded for my duties 6 bags of fresh hamburger buns in which I kept my spoils, some loose junk from the junkyard where we left Matthew’s body, came back to us tomorrow and killed him there again. I had a brother named Mathew once… On the third evening, racked with guilt, Jillian and I called off the killing, and in turning the wrong way home we turned again to be right way bound. I was in exile hiding, later, upon the top bunk of a harem’s hotbed, I gazed about the guests in gasmic sprees of anti-trust lawsuits couldn’t curry favor but with the ladies who like coin, I sat around for days and listened to their murmurs only waking when the dreams disturbed her, my melancholy woman passed around her sashes, many danced the waves in a pit of fiery passion, upjumped wizards called her Mephistopheles, George called her Melisandre, I called her by no name as one does not name the respite of the fountain, found in the Oasis she was a gift in her Wonderwalls, I wandered on for days the deserts in desperate searching for a something, a nothing no one knows about, I collapsed at last and took in my arms the weighing of the world her sanded belly protrudes of child, stillborn the Mother Earth. I cannot stop at last for death, so she kindly stopped for me, and saved me from a marriage to that which presently, might have provided a blissful sort of heaven in the ether, I thought instead a living might be better aught to teach her, I took her in my arms as I had the weighing of the world, and stared into forevermore, her eyes, my setting sun. And when she whispered to me, my fingers ran with blood. A long time passed and memories they still about me shine, and nothing burns so bright as the quilling of that night.


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