Fantasy swirls --
taking over my mind.
I see desire caressing my small silhouette,
except I’m no longer so
s m a l l
I’m larger than life --
larger than the hands of the men
that push me into the earth.

The dreams of my desire grow like moss
all over the stinging thorns of reality.
Circuitry constructs happier versions
of the sad souls that I know --  
the dullness that fills my day with black and white
At night,
my mind comes alive with technicolor brilliance.
But I’m afraid I’m aging in front of desire--
laying myself naked, body wrinkled and deteriorating
in front of dreams that cannot be sparked.
And no matter how hard I try
to ignite reality,
my fantasies have used up all my oxygen, and factuality
has choked itself to death.

*-lf-