"What kind of nightmares?"
The kind that creep in the darkest corners of my mind, the kind where everything is grey and specters  of dreams and fears and hated things come creeping from corners in circular rooms and almost attack me.
The kind where shadowy figures depict who I was and I stab them or shoot them or they burst into flame because I can't let them live.
The kind where I know that everything I care about is dead, or the kind where I realize that I care about nothing and nothing cannot die.
"Have you no good dreams?*
A good dream is one in which there is light all around, where my setting is definite and the demons  attack.
A good dream is one in which I watch as things I love (because in these dreams I can love' dreams don't have to make sense) are whisked away by witches and creatures, in which I see the villains coming for me.
A good dream is one in which I die quickly so it can be over.
I rarely have good dreams.

Real Love

Love can be so very strange,
life you must now rearrange.
Butterflies in the tummy,
clam chowder is so yummy.
Naked massages, magic touch,
finger tips, I love so much.
When not home, I get lonely,
nothing about us, is a phony.
You're my very best friend,
I text you and hit send.
We fight more than we should,
I'd fix that if only I could.
Laying naked in the bed,
cuddling with you, no more said.
We were two halves, that became one,
my hot dog fits perfectly in your bun.
We never kiss and tell,
******* make us yell.
What's mine is also yours,
even my brand new fishing lures,
What's yours is also mine,
I don't quite fit in your Calvin Klein.
We share and share alike,
together we face problems,
that are headed down the pike.
Nothing can tear us apart,
I rode in a bus, and you in a **** cart.
On the day that we wed,
that night we will have a wet bed.
We will live happily ever after,
Lots of trust and a little laughter,
So if you ask me what is real love,
I don't know, but something not to get rid of.

please don’t look at me

like your entire world sits

in my silky smooth hands

because it will slip through
the cracks between the tips

please don’t speak to me

like your very strum of words

rely on my dull echo of a voice

because you will go deaf

from listening to my answers

but oh dear please don’t lay

your love on my heart because

it will turn over and the scars

will be burned open and my claws

will sting you away more violent

than a bird flying away or even

the tides of storm returning

to their home somewhere beneath

the blue, dark sea of your tears

shed because my heart lays

deep down in the black sea

cole 12/30/13

If the song birds sang
At night, if they rang
When the stars show their light,
Instead of sunlight,
If they sang at this, the hour of noon,
Or if they sang to the piercing moon,
Would it be the same?
Would birds have a new fame,
Like the owl, their calls eerie?
Instead of the chirps we know, cheery?
Would I feel this at ease
And attuned to peace,
Listening to their music,
Or would their majesty lose it?

Twist boy, twist.
Move from where my step falls
Read me. You can’t.
But, you must.

Dance boy, Dance.
You.
Don’t just let me win
But, I will.

Dip boy, dip.
Arrogance won’t drown this
My reach for you
Is no longer slippery.

Die boy, Die.

This road has closed I can't see the end
I can feel the cold breeze touching my skin
I can feel the fire burning in my heart
Not sure where I'm going, not sure where to start.
(Guitar playing)
Well I don't know where, and I don't know when
But I know we'll be lovers again
I can see our love every time I use this pen,
I can hear her heart every time I swim
In a bottle of tears drifting in an ocean of gin
My emotions are creating a collage...mental images of remembering where we've been.
I hope this song reaches you, I hope to see you again.
Would love to speak to you just as friends.
Do you smile the same? Is your hair still long?
I'm just talking to myself, I know that you're gone.
It's the idea of hope that keeps me holding on...holding......on.