PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I don’t have the sun in this place.
Jesus, doesn’t say a thing to take me from this place
the ugliest piece of memory the enigma to dream
intercepting chaos without benefit of dark or light

there is a rumpled world,
an old blue rock- on wobbly legs
where I reside in chains
chained to the speculation of desire

with one hand tight on this pint,
the other clutching the shot glass.
longing that you are listening
do you also know this feeling of the untouched?

chance equals gestures of delusion, we are living dreams
we are loving our dreams, in dreams we are conjoined
dreams change into sequins that we exhale from guilt by a sea
where I linger, as the myth of misconception

Isn't that a myth too?
a goddess persuaded to reach
for the fool of solitude
sometimes being fooled is temporary
until love is purged from your nervous system