the only escape

my veins run thick with warm wine and cinnamon. dreams tumble-spin in spirals wide enough to believe until you squint or stir to morning light. fragments surface in the shower; tinged indigo and heavy. I hang them to dry with the others I forget to water. if I really try to focus I can catch fleeting faces or glimpses of places we went while I slept.

a long walk up a white hill with a friend I want to make. you're going to meet us at the top. we gather round a pile of pebbles cone-shaped like the mounds of sticks that make the village fires. I want to hold your hand but the clouds are rolling in. we race the path through the grey plains to the city on our bikes. he's faster than us both. you try to peddle faster. I think of the part where you both fall in love. your laughs roll back to me on the wind. we must be on the cusp. 

a massacre at the movie night. the red of human insides paints every surface like the schools on my phone. final breaths and muffled screams for parents. mostly children left lifeless on the floor. instigators shield themselves with black masks and machetes. I run to the dorms to find the younger ones asleep, room washed soft blue from the light of the moon. quiet snores and dreams. the matron crosses her lips with a finger from the throne in the corner: let them sleep. I lock the door and slip back into the pool of spoiled futures, rising higher with every cry for mercy. swim down the bloody hall to find a window to escape. lose myself in familiar faces floating by my side. I see the end in empty eyes and know I can't be too far off. the only escape is waking up.