Sunday, November 15, 2009

the pilgiarist

i starting to realize the fear deep in my belly
the one that tells me "you do deserve this"
"this is who you are"
"there may never be another like him"
so i assure myself this too will pass
not to fear those voices
the dream was just a dream
you never cared to ask what the dream was
and i fear you never read me
but in this dream i saw you
i saw right through you
you never asked me
because i remembered something quite fimilar in this dream
was it a bluebird, or maybe a daffodil?
something quite frail like that
we all have the ablity for a pilgiarist in the waits
whatever makes us feel human
the sex gives me that
moments of anger and guilt give me that
because of my efforts have been tossed to the wind
in my dream we lived in a slum
back in the roman times
if romans had niggers
and we slept under a red light
and you told me something real...i think you meant it
my heart got full and spilled into the slum
i asked and i begged you repeat it
but you got that look on your face again
i hate that look
like ive known you for decades and you had alzheimer's again
your brows squeezed in tight and you pushed me off your chest
i kicked and screamed and fell deep in the alley way
crying for hours
even though dreams are seconds
i woke up
and thought to myself
was it worth it?
all those tears in the alleyway
and you cant even remember the words
well who knows
the night has come again i hesitate to close my eyes
i wake up with a good man
just like yesterday
but my dreams belong to you
my mind is still held on could have beens
although im sure like i was sure then
you fuck for sport
so ill take my good man
keep your bluebird
keep your daffodil
i never saw much of them
you can win old man
hope it gives you resolution
thought our bond was made of something stronger
turns out dental floss kept us bound
pussy juice and allergic reactions
sour hearts and snoring
nothing really
someone told me to do what i want
just never tell a soul
i never was any good at secerts
and i always lose in love
but i am a woman of passion
and the taste of it is here
its my reflection again
in a broken man's life
who could resist the smell of wounded boy?
not I said the fly
i need to sleep
the dream cums

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