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  Jul 27 guy scutellaro
Phia
PRH
The same lonely walls
Sterile rooms
And dead eyes
Never live or die
just disappear fly
too fast to splatter
too small to matter.
frost laced teeth of cracked leather
course through bare back thighs
frigid sheen of yellowed ivory
caress tentative fingertips
nose, cheek and ear
incline then enquire
old smell, old sound
ancient piano sing
golden curtains and hard wood floor
longing and lightning

I dream a dozen roses.

I want to hear your voice
I need to feel you

sitting next to me, sister

i dream a dozen roses, beloved

and golden curtains touching the hard wood floor

I dream a dozen roses. little bird

your heart smiles,
angels and wings waiting

one spirit

I dream a dozen roses
white in color,
heart shaped
filled with hope

I dream a dozen roses,
are you still here
dear sister, Lisa?

surely

gentle spirit,
dear sister, Lisa

darling of light

I dream a dozen roses
the bees are sharing their dreams
with me

and I want to know what
it feels like to rob a bank,
to run naked through the moonlit garden,
compose a sonata,
stare up into trees
then pause to listen to blue birds singing,

the bees are sharing their dreams with me, today

and I want to run with the bulls
in Pamplona

I want to remember

time insane
when untamed dreams
ran wild
in the dim light
of a room without windows

desperado,
purple eyeshadow and lips

dancing through misty memory,
she comes

quiet midnight settling in her eyes
bare foot waif, never kind...

the thief of my dreams
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