Missing: The Good Old Days

The last time I ate this heavily I dreamed of clocks and blonde holocausts wolves chasing after my father and the circles of time that plague even my waking moments. I could see inside all of out cells and understand why we stop growing when our knowledge of the world gets too big. If i never knew of taxes I'd be ten feet tall by now. My hair down to my knees and sleeping in driveway puddles. The last time I ate nothing for tree days - half out of laziness and half out of the desire for something better to come along - that time I dreamed of prisms in our foreheads, spectrums of light (until now unseen) reaching through the space between us through the dark and into out skulls glowing warm and green with lust. I dreamed of our parents, somehow connected though unaware of one another. Looking twice as they pass on the highway, in the grocery store. Pangs of kinship rattling through them. Gurgling up in their stomachs like seltzerwater bubbles.