I
spent a dub, drinking coffee, spinning on caffeine. I needed more, to see her
dance, waxing a loquat; for beauty breathes birth, barely born beige, to be a
beacon. I loved her, to know but a name, knee high in infatuation. We worded
pressure, a grand illusion, ever to feel sober; for I spent not a dub, and
touched not a cup, and saw not a soul. I reappear, a fairytale life, speaking
German. The sights are lost, to race a sky, to feign for different; and there
for laughs, a tiny squirrel, sipping gin. We spoke a language, a vocal wave, to
spawn illusion. I walked a snake, to vow for love, a grand illusion; plus a
snail, to race a lap, a bit confusing. Oh for love, a featured love, a moment’s
love; and yes for love, the fruits of love, a fiction love. We journey, to
capture flies, a spider in a jar; for months are gray, and years are tan,
fleeing illusions; and mother called, the winds of ash, to picture a
mouthpiece. A dog is barking, and scratching wildly, and no one hears. I called
the dog, and people watched—a sad illusion. I needed more, to feel it beat,
kneeling on a roof; and there for ghosts, a rapid tongue, painting a goblin. The
brush is speaking, a gift of life, to dangle midair; and where to paint, a
canvas fey, chirping at songbirds. I found a witness, a soft cigar, and
brightly speechless. I felt to claim it, a torn illusion, to tiptoe reality;
and near the dock, a mermaid’s heart, tipping towards terror. We journey, to
shave a cat, crawling through a portal. People are talking, and pointing fingers,
and there’s a paramedic. I move closer, to cuddle leaves, a bit confused. They
asked a name, and gripped a wrist, headed towards a van. I laughed a language,
a little torn, to cheer for sirens.
