Tag: dreams

Posted on

Episode 78 – Restless

1.

Ancient strokes
brushed
on naked skin,

entangled,
a poem without,
my love within.

In costume,
the play begins
without me.

False friends follow,
dragging me back
to the shell of a life.

O girl in blue,
won’t you tell me 
what to do?

Paint me, naked,
hair behind one ear,
my Aphrodite.

2.

The journey leads me
back again,
swinging,
trying to get in. 
Too many people 
watching,
my father’s sin.

Ladies,
lovely like ice cream,
speak to me 
in foreign tongues,
send me off to war.
I can’t take it 
anymore.

Pulled apart by petals 
and stems,
too many corridors,
I can’t get in.
No place to lose my heart.
I’m broken, torn apart.

3.

Time 
is a carnival,
masking your face
with laughter,

cotton candy.
Find me
in a melody,
follow the lines.
No time
to remember 
before,

on hands and knees.
You alone,
time lost.
And I
not born yet,
even as I die.

4.

The earth
is a dreamer,
hiding behind walls,
hands plunged deep 
in dark desert mud,
its name 
unknown to anyone.

Memories are
isolated,
all twisted in family.
Speech, so ancient
there are no words.

Strength lies
in friendship,
in purpose.
The way
looms clear.

Then dawn 
arrives
and changes
everything.

Posted on

Episode 66 – Hush

Shadows
in the clock tower,
frightened girls
who cannot scream.
Without voice,
intimacy becomes language.
Hideous
is the face of silence.
One noise,
a volcano
in the quiet of a mind.
The clock strikes one
and steals our hearts,
cutting them
from the chest
with knives so sharp
that, though we die,
the pain remains.
Only a song
can save us.

Posted on

Episode 61 – Beer Bad

Music pricked his ears,
pouring straight
into his soul,
transforming him 

into a creature,
wind in his fur,
flies in his teeth, 

lifted from love’s arms,
its primitive heart
barely beating.

Posted on

Episode 50 – Doppelgangland

She came for me
and I came for her.
We were lovers
for awhile,

the dark
and the light.

Awakening
in butterflies and daisies,
she didn’t know where
she’d been.

Who would you be if I weren’t me,
asking why you stole my boyfriend?

I try to send her back
to a world more tolerant,
but her charm
has lost its way.

Pink sweater,
banana,
orange backpack.

A fold in time
and it could be

leather pants,
red lips,
black fingernails.

Returning to the dark,
it overtakes her
and, once again,
she is dust.

Posted on

Episode 46 – Helpless

Your eyes are clouds of medicated bliss,
mean and sparkling as you speak.

It hurts, I say.
Yes, you sneer, eyes bright like clear luster marbles.

The brutality leaves me stripped of my powers.
Like a baby, so soft, the words raise blisters on my skin.

Am I just a story you tell yourself?

I dream a man ties you up.
He hates mothers, having suffered much at their hands.

This vial is my betrayal,
a slow, steady poison passed down, mother to daughter.

Can’t you please leave me intact when you go,
one final suit of armor to protect me?

A glimpse of dull grey fear shadows your eyes,
and I soften.

I have no wish to fill your remaining time with torture.
Disease delivers enough of that.

Pain is real and I keep it close for comfort
as you lead me through the fog.

I follow because I know no other way.
I am your only child.

Posted on

Episode 30 – Killed by Death

Fingers grasping
the top of the world,
I jump over,
weakened by sorrow.

Though I tell myself
to keep fighting,
I feel faint and
flushed with sickness.

He stares at me
from a doorway,
tipping his hat
‘til I am shaken.

Behind the curtain
lie shadows
of my own death
reflected in your eyes.

Monsters hide
inside and share
our darkest secrets,

though we no longer
see them and believe
that we are free.

Posted on

Episode 10 – Nightmares

She stands frozen,
pigtails in the master’s lair.
He hisses.

For a moment she believes
it’s just a bad dream . . .

The sad faced boy
brings tarantulas to class.

Someone breaks in
to kill us while we sleep.

Lost in the forest
we stand naked, vulnerable.

It’s dark and I’ve misplaced you.
I did so many things wrong.

He’s there,
over        and over        again,

letting me believe he might still love me,
then fades away,

laughing at my silliness
for believing he loved me
in the first place.

I find myself in despair and he comes back,
over        and over again,
to tell me he doesn’t want me.

I used to be afraid of snakes,
but their soft hiss no longer frightens me.

Over and        over again,

they come to me
speaking serpentine soliloquies,

then slide away.

Lost in the forest,
I stand naked and vulnerable,

but awake.