Nasturtiums

If I thought these dreams

Of things

Unattainable

Were things meant

To glide easy

And tread upon

The arcs

Where

All the clouds

And doubts

Of every

Enigmatic

Tragic

Thing

Stopped

There'd be thought

Persuaded

Lost

Leather men

Thoughts

Of some avoidable

And some

Unexplainable

All of them trickle

With smiles

Growing deeply

Into space

That is submission

Dismissing

Nothing

Sleeping and dreaming

On my

Hard wood floor

Anywhere

Just to be

Close

To something

Grow

Into nothing

The break

Of snapping lead

The twists

And winding sockets

In all

The empty pockets

I've wanted

Masquerading

Patterns

Entertaining

Anything

I'd take anything

For a real night

Maybe,

A truth fight

That emerald ice

Where I create

Some illusion

When all things

Fade

No longer missing

The attainable

But creating

Elusive paths

Where I am

No longer trapped

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