Convincingly Real Dreams: Part II

Convincingly Real Dreams: Part II

Sleeping the weariness off in the evening
after soaking my lungs with nicotine –
I have a clean bed with purple flower patterns
on the bedsheet –

I dream of this girl
who has:
emerald green eyes
through which she glances wistfully
at the leaves soaked by the kisses of rain.

She holds my hand and dances –
her feet touch the ground –
tap-tap sound;
my hand slide through hers
and she doesn’t miss a move;
I am a terrible dancer.

She follows me through the puddles,
fuming traffic,
asking me questions about
my personal well-being,
and I answer truthfully –
to lie to her would be
smashing a bottleful of Georgian wine
on the parched, summer-beaten ground,
or staring at the sunny side until it burns you
to a crisp.

I say:
I am terribly lonely.

Like a Venus flytrap,
she embraces me in her arms
and I let my muscles, bones, mind
dissolve –
she takes good care of them all;
the Cupid, hidden in the dark grey clouds,
smiles in extreme notoriety
and it starts raining –
crystals falling from the sky,
turning into gems.

Earlier today,
I wrote a poem for her:

Untie your hair
and let it crash
like the waves of the untamed sea.

Blink your eyes,
and shed your wrath –
hell resides in my heart –
the fire of which you kindled.

Part your lips,
for mine are parched,
waiting to be mushed
by the swarm of your uncivilised kisses.

***

Art by Sir Josef.

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