semi automatic dreamscape
picture it
boundless emptiness
like an ocean of thought
swimming from sharks made of wrought iron and slate
frightening and you haven't even gotten through
those towering gates
lower me down
to the sewers
where I rest in waste
swimming in a sea
Of blanketed unease
but don't call me a monster
im barely a beast
crawling out your drain
and into sweet dreams
looking for beauty to trade me peace

I wore your coat
Out in the summer sun
And I ran until the sweat begun
To drip
Drip down my waist
And to my toes
Seeping into parts of me
That're starting to get old
Look at you
So young and full of life
Like moonbeams dancing
In the dead of night
Look at me
So bitter and so tasteless
In spite of
All the flowers
I thought I would grow
Time's running out
And dinner's getting cold

i haven't dreamt since mid-June
when my eyes were ripe
and in full bloom
flourishing
everlasting;
lucidly distant
so it seems now
like yesterday was something
you could keep in a jar
i kept my door ajar at night
wanting to feeling the light of the moon
knowing that spiders could creep in too
and everything blossoming
wilted too soon

im so weak in the knees
i want to drop to the floor
and pray
for forgiveness?
for redemption?
for a subtle nudge in the right direction?
i don't deserve the good but
maybe i don't deserve worst
just something right between holy
and just desserts

check the clock;
give me the time of day.
i made a wish everytime i saw the     number two
but what's the point in pairs
if you haven't got time to choose?

dinner's getting cold;
ice is melting on the floor.
ive got a funny hat
for my balancing act
and I pretend it's a matter-of-fact

i am a renaissance woman
i am of a golden age
with satire and lust dripping from every page
bind me tight to stand up straight
wind me up im going,

going

gone

delicately trace the outline of my body
every night in your dreams
wishing you were next to me
and leave me unraveling
is it for sure?
nothing is exactly
so i back up backbone
and head for the freak show
can you flag me down
somewhere near flagstaff, arizona
call me, say
"i miss you
you've got a home here"
i wish I could run to you but
the waters are murky
and my mind isn't clear

im 95 lives
all aged to 102
gracing their graves with white roses
i wish i felt such purity
buried beneath me
yet  you can only be ****** of so many things
captioned in some other language
i still can't read

i thought i was 43
one night
after a bad dream
clinging to the regret
without any doubt
i saw it once in a movie
but you couldn't make it out

remember when i was small?
first grade; climbing trees
in my best friends backyard?
at 80 i won't remember her name
and im brimming sorrow
that a bleaker tomorrow
awaits me
like gates stretched way beyond me
with a sign too far to read