I daydream that the
recruiters go out of their way
not to promise dates and even
marriage with **** Nordic blond
beautiful co-eds for the players.
I daydream that they the recruiter bring
in local so-called cool jet set
types to add spice to the recruiting
process.
I daydream that the recruiters
take notice of whether the local
layout of the campus is ideal for the players
and that they show 'em around
the campus and in the city or town (including
"campus town") of the respective schools.
I daydream that they definitely
don't promise under the table money
and everything is on the up and up.
I daydream that they
emphasize the liberal arts programs
of the respective colleges
and suggest to the players that the
combination of a good liberal arts education
and skills learned in sports could lead to a good position later on.
I daydream that they emphasize
the building up of what I call
the two key faces of college football
and basketball programs - depth
and balance of the players.
I daydream that they emphasize
that the players obey conduct rules.
I daydream that they emphasize
the well-roundedness of their
respective programs.

A daydream
Forgotten instantly
Almost
Small remnants left behind
A daydream
Where our best ideas are crafted
When exhaustion takes over
When second guessing yourself is so tiring you dont even bother
A daydream
Where time skips at random intervals
Destination: anywhere but here
A daydream
Where am I again?
I don't want to wake up
I'm happy here
In a daydream

31/12/2022

It’s the last day of the year, and I’ve had one extra depressive episode
because a 21 year old noped out, apparently I’m demiromantic
and have never had a crush
need a strong connection, when it’s there – it’s nothing
to reckon with, had I known
I’d have put more space between us, taken it slower
rather than convincing myself I have control, as it slips

I’m leaving another lover, wretched with stench
I look at their face in old pictures, becoming
afraid at their void expression, beard
they refuse to trim for me
so I daydream and I know
like, I know now, with therapy that

there is no magical himbo to save me,
no delusions about that, no boo, no more
but I also know I deserve some ******* comfort
after the hell, oh the hell
I can’t broach, if I **** it will burst
like a yolk, I’ll be dead by morning, oh and

he’s so beautiful
his eyes on me, his cautious fingers, fear and shudders
makes me feel like my best was not just good enough
my best was fascinating.
I want to tell him about my songs, mixing in studio 1
I wanna duet, and melt,
I want him on his knees at random words, I want
that worship, wanna feel
his piercing on my
everything,
want to give that worship
not just in a word document,
so I daydream, I get to.
I ******* get to if I need it, daydream about
whichever thing will never happen if I need it.

I will not be shamed for surviving
I will not be blinded to an oasis for the chance
it’s a mirage, I need to
get from place to place, boo
What shall I do as I heal? Drink? Drugs? ******* cigarettes?
did you know the internet says I’ll die at 67?
Little more than half now
my life is not shortened by zoning out -
If I want a muse I will have a ******* muse, and he can think
I’m crazy along with the rest of them,
****
if
I
care,  
I want him to come here.
                                    I want to ask him questions, reasonable questions
because I know I would:
                                                          ­             is this an impulsive decision?
have you broken up?
                                                                ­                               how long ago?
are you in therapy?
                                            I am **** demisexual,
                                                  even in my mind,
                                              especially in my mind
Do       you      want      me      or      do       you       want      polyamory?
Because I can be anyone, and I have already been
                                                         an experiment for some guy, ‘fore he  
                                                            gets­ a bi curious, monogamous girl
Because we can grow alongside one another, but not fix
each other
because you need to process
because if you’re with her, she wouldn’t have a reason other than “my boyfriend really wants to” and that is the worst reason for polyamory, and I am not nor have ever been in the business of hurting people with intent (excluding  grade school, ((I’m
sorry, Martina – double sorry you died from
leukemia,) excluding when you c o n s e n t )),  
I’d like you to answer all of those, then
maybe I get to hold you.

That’s my daydream. Holding you. Watching films, you commenting on them the way I’ve done and annoyed all of my lovers.

how your neck would smell

                                      how your hair and head would feel in my hands

how you’d shiver and breathe shallow, and how easily
I could make it calm.  

and yeah, subspacing you and using your body, I am not entirely ace.

There's gotta be something more than this.
For the past few days I catch myself whispering this
A daydream
You're next to me
Your smile still looks the same
You smile only when your genuinely happy
I know its real
I've always loved that about you
Your hands lay in my lap
Our legs against each other
I look at you
There's gotta be something more than this
I tell you how there must be
I squeeze your hand tight
Knowing that I would have to hold it tight if I wanted to keep it
We stare out into the ocean until the daydream becomes faint
A daydream
The one that enters my mind when I'm alone
I whisper
There's gotta be something more than this
but you see there isn't
My name only comes to your mind when your phone screen reads my text
Your smile is just a moment
It came, it went
And perhaps this daydream is just the thing I wish I would have told you when I felt us drift
Almost 2 years ago now
I don't know if that makes me crazy
Obsessive
Tender hearted
Or just someone that really, truly loved you
After all this time I can't ******* believe it's still you
There's gotta be something more than this.

I’m having a daydream relapse of colors that don’t exist,
inter-dimensional crushes and sleeping with Picasso.

I’m having a daydream relapse of bankrupting the king,
champagne showers and headless beauty queens.

I’m having a daydream relapse of running out of love spells,
made up anniversaries and Egyptians that don’t look like Cleopatra.

I’m having a daydream relapse of laying naked with vintage villains
and stirring flakes of gold into my melanin.

I'm having a daydream relapse of running through the streets at night
and feeling pity for people not living like us.

Her eyes are filled with wonder
hearts a floating fire
her mind has cracked with thunder
thoughts are running wild
caught up in a daydream
she hates the way the days seem
to come and go
with no control
of how or who or what to do
or where to go or who to be
mad as hell, society
crazy
lazy
hazy
lay back down,
daydream.

Daydreaming gives me joy, peace from the madness surrounding us.
I’d like to think there was hope.
Maybe there was joy in the way our world worked.
I daydream about the worst and that’s why it pains me to find joy in it.
I daydream I’m not chasing a dying age.
I daydream that maybe someday the words I tend to give you with this mind that often drifts gives you joy too.
I daydream I won’t be the only one daydreaming anymore.
And maybe. Maybe the world won’t seem so complex to a steady mind.