some dream of warmth
some dream of flying

some spend mornings lying
balancing on the edge
between sleep and awake

half dreamt images
of dancing flames
closeness
heat warming their face

or lingering sensations
of falling
remembering soaring
through the sky


meeting someone
share the dream
such a rarity

find and be found
instead of searching
the reason we search

few words needed
when minds mere touch
feel like home

to know already
the smile in your voice
to words not said

the touch of your hand
in mine
without holding

few words needed
none allowed

to share a dream
is unspoken


there had been signs to indicate
you too hid matches in your coat

if one were to find them now
others not to be ignored
remember

tasting on your skin
a silent longing for
someone to share your skies


nothing now in your eyes
but squinting back to see

attempts at finding
wordless answers

some do not remember dreams
they have but half dreamt images
lingering sensations

if you had but asked
if only I had shared
I never wanted flying

I dream of fires

A somewhere someone
Will someday somehow
Take us to somewhen
Somewhat with somewho.

Some welcome the darkness like an old friend.
Some believe the light you see when you die
is the beginning, not the end.
At the end of the day, I guess the message
that I'm trying to send is that you can find hope or a way to be at peace anywhere

Some people can't understand.
Some people don't understand yet.
And some people refuse to understand.
But just like it's not your job
to prove people wrong,
the burden doesn't fall on you
to make them understand.
Focus on the people who do support you
and understand.
Because you should never have to defend
how you live your life.

Enjoy the madness, its Mortemer's dance!
Swishing and turning its not wishy-washy,
Slashing and cutting the shapes! Oh lord the shapes!
Slicing and spinning then boom! Red confetti.
Look at him go in his marvelous trance!
Spinning and cutting the dance spins in circles as the audience cries 'now do the slip and slide!'
So he slides in real slow now he's in his mojo
He's feeling himself as he's breaking it down.
Its him and himself in his spotlight lit solo,
A pool of composure for his one final flourish;
A swish and a slit, moves never seen before.
The big grand finale and the crowd goes bananas!
There's roses on roses, they pile on the stage!
Mortemer's touched by such lovely affection from a crowd of individuals with no connection.
He'll lie on the stage and soak up the praise.
His roses smell sweet, and his roses are plenty.