'what do you
want to be when
you grow up?'

'what do you plan
to do with your life?'

'you can't make money
doing
that....'

this age old question
acts as
the intersection
between dreams
and reality

people ask this question
and i am rendered speechless
a voice lost in the
howling wind of promise

their piercing,
expectant gaze
like paparazzi
cameras

i put on a mask
my own shadows
loom in the night

'oh maybe,
i'll be a nurse
or a pharmacist'

i am safe
as warm approving
nods beckon

'oh i want to be
a writer'

nods turn
to disfavor
like a star
falling out of the sky

when has
authentic happiness
become a servant
to dishonest disinterest?
(b.d.s.)

the moon is pink
a hallucination 
of spring-time beauties-
forever serenade my soul

the moon
with its lovely
lavender & white hues
adored like a bouquet of roses

it was my illusion,
a dreamer's fantasy
my lamb in the
darkness

it served as a guide
in a world
without much beauty-
enveloped in madness

the stars
gather around
like angels on a
distant heaven on earth

my dream
had only been
an accidentally
fatal glance

the moon could
never be pink
just a myth
i tried desperately

to believe

(b.d.s.)

love is no longer
in words
unspoken desires
behind concrete statements

i talk to you
in the quiet nights
as if i was the
child of darkness

but you were my light

all ive ever known
is the darkness of love
born in its nothingness
my pen like a guide

let me feel again
i wanna love you
like i should
you deserve the best

and i want you to know that

you are my everything
and my anything
making me drift
into my fantasies
(b.d.s.)