title: In the arms of sleep author: kimera archive: http://www.kimerascall.lima-city.de/ Genuine fiction Morrison-series (look for "Informationen"), part 3 PG: 16 category: fantasy written: 17.05.2001 disclaimer: "In the arms of sleep" written and performed by Smashing Pumpkins, no intention to violate any copyrights. To whom it may concern. ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ ~+~ In the arms of sleep Another endless night dying in the fire of morning. I'm wearing that bright orange-colored dress that we all are up to. But even the strong, overwhelming shine cannot enlighten my way. I follow the old paths, hidden traces carved in stonetiles way home. My eyes, dried out, fixed on shades of Grey. I'm no longer able to register subtle differences, like the greenish plant trying to force its way to light. Foolish little being, by achieving this endeavor it will be smashed, trodden on and die. I amble through "living" like a ghost, a puppet reigned by cerebellum only. Driven by automatics out of my reach, furiously struggling to keep up life. My life. I am not concerned. Not anymore. Did it start the very moment when I encountered my twin in a mirror, not recognizing myself? Must have been somewhat startled, but I don't even remember. No meaning to me. If there ever had been. Reaching the place I call home in lack of proper description I get downstairs. Dwelling subterranean, under a cold, artificial neonsun. I get out of my bright dress in semi-darkness, avoiding light like a specter. Waiting for oblivion to come. ~+~ Time has no connection to me. I don't feel it anymore. Keeping my head down and sweeping pavements and urban floors. Some caring people must have gotten me here, this Sisyphus task as a way to earn living. Can you earn a life? Deep down an image comes up, blank faces telling me to get a grip. But how to grip something you cannot find? Maybe never owned. I cannot feel me. Am I still? Or is it just an illusion preventing me from going insane, to keep up mere existence? I follow my realm of Grey, pavements and sights of shoes in all fashions. Never watch their faces. Can't distinguish them any longer. Drifting by. A machine, melting with the useless images that the brains of the passersby sort out. I don't know why I keep going on. No importance to no one. Not even me. Once there had been visions. And dreams. Far away, there was an echo in my mind. I felt shame for losing it. Shattered bits, brushed aside. Nothing left but a facade. I guess I'm just accustomed to life. Well, existence. Something strange happens. Blue boots step into my worn out sight. As I hover aside, trained animal, they follow me persistently. Refusing this dance, I have to face this stranger. A young man, more than handsome, a striking beauty. I could have fallen for him in another time. A former life. I don't endure desire anymore. Mildly confused I answer his smile with a blank glance. A perfect costume, ready to stand nightlife with selfish dreams and young lust. In his radiating charm invulnerable. Forever. Black hair like raven's feathers, tinted blue sunglasses and a skin white like the first snowflakes in winter. There's something alien in his appearance, but I don't care. Angel or devil, demon or saint, it's all the same to me. Not important. I wander off, leaving him behind, mechanically following the traces of everyday. ~+~ Another night lost like a sandcorn in the hourglass. Do I mind if there's anything left? Just going on. No aim. No guilt about it. Suddenly the blue boots are back. Did he wait for me? I search his face, trying effortlessly to remember how to communicate with members of my species. Still wearing the sunglasses, an enticing smile explodes in the dawn. I feel like grinning, but the mere thought is gone before I can catch up. I start walking, eyes fixed to the ground. He stays by my side. Doesn't talk. Good. I'm no longer in the smalltalk business, can't even remember words anymore. >Wanna join me?< Strange idea. Must come from this deadly charming stranger. I don't mind. We keep our pace in silence. There's an old saying. >On my way I always depended on the mercy of strangers.< Do you feel pity for me? Will you grant me the rest I'm longing for? ~+~ We enter my dark, tiny apartment. He makes himself comfortable on the old couch. In an ancient pose, one delicate leg on the cushions, the other one spread, offering me the empty space in between. I take my seat, tightly kept by his arms around me. Lovingly warm enclosing this shell like a blanket. Soft hair stroking smoothly my cheek. I close my eyes. Whisper hoarsely, fighting forgotten words. "I am tired." He hums to my ear a melody, full of melancholy and heartbreak. I long for the void, beautiful stranger. For sleep, endless and sweet. A soft kiss caresses my temple. Finally. It has been a long journey. ~+~ "In The Arms Of Sleep" by Smashing Pumpkins sleep will not come to this tired body now peace will not come to this lonely heart there are some things i'll live without but i want you to know that i need you right now i need you tonite i steal a kiss from her sleeping shadow moves cause i'll always miss her wherever she goes and i'll always need her more than she could ever need me i need someone to ease my mind but sometimes a someone is so hard to find and i'll do anything to keep her here tonite and i'll say anything to make her feel alright and i'll be anything to keep her here tonite cause i want you to stay, with me i need you tonite she comes to me like an angel out of time as i play the part of a saint on my knees there are some things i'll live without but i want you to know that i need you right now suffer my desire suffer my desire suffer my desire for you ~+~ ENDE ~+~ Thanks for reading! kimera, gone for a while NOTES OF PRODUCTION This part of the Morrison-series is related to a song by the Smashing Pumpkins, a memento, only to be held by Morrison.