I had a panic attack today over the phone with someone I love. I was unconcious for a few minutes and I woke up to the sound of her screaming my name, trying to get me to wake up. Afterwards I played chicken with a semi-truck. I don't want to go on living anymore.

That night, a dream:
I'm at a steakhouse in El Paso, Texas waiting for food or someone.
Can't remember.
As I'm awaiting, the Virgin Mary appears before me in a flash
of bleeding light that kills my sperm.
In her hands are two baked potatoes with sour cream, chives and
butter packets.
She extends her hand to me, and I take one of them.
I cut into it with a pair of oversized knives and forks and I take a bite.
It was very dry.
She hands me the other one and I say,
"You try it. It's dry as fuck."

This is our last night together, and it's sleeting and snowing and
raining and it's grey.
"Why'd you pull over?"
"Too fucking grey."
And then I go on about some of the most ridiculous shit that's
ever came out of my mouth, I swear to God.
New York and getting married and killing myself and fuck, man.
I start the car back up and pull onto a suburban street to just drive,
when an ambulance cab pulls in front of me.
It stays in front the whole way, following my every turn (or I was following it, I mean)
and through the window I could get a clear view of an old woman inside, strapped
to a respirator, bleeding out of her neck, and she was motioning me:
One of her hands was held above her head, dangling in front of her face like
a spider, and the other was moving back and forth in front of her mouth.
We locked eyes.
"Lisa, this old woman is trying to tell me something."
"No, seriously, look! She's trying to tell me something! I know it!"
"Randy, you missed the turn."
"Lisaaa! Look! I fucking know it!"
The ambulance took a left and I took a right.
I dropped her off and seriously had nothing to say about anything.

I built a cabin in the woods.
I forged every steel bar, cut down every wooden plank.
I'm going to live there someday away from you, but I'll always be watching,
and you won't hear it but when you're making many new memories with
many new people you'll hear the vibration of my voice mumbling to myself:
"What a lovely young woman you've grown into."
Poor advice.
interesting story. I really like the first section.
If this was written by anyone but you it would sound like you were actually writing about a dream you've had. But i highly doubt thats the case. Even though the dream thing can be a good thing, if done right. If done wrong, it can easily become atrocious. I think this one sits on the line of both (which is a mini miracle in itself, that its possible to even do that.) I like this, but it seems a little less creative than your other stuff, its still better than most everything on here, but not better than most of your stuff on here. Sorry I wasnt much help but I felt like I should at least say something, even if all I do is suck your dick.