clockwise dreams

 

am i running out of time?

is it running out of me?

 

i hear this ugly crack,

it’s my dreams breaking up

 

bone by bone,

day by day

 

can’t i do anything?

can’t i just push?

 

doors slammed shut

won’t open

 

kitchen scissors cutting the wings

i never really had

 

i was made to hide,

i was made to be silent

 

the nightfall’s touching my face,

trying to be gentle but

 

i need no gentleness.

i need no comfort

 

can’t i just grab my covert dream tight by the throat?

and take it down the fucking notch?

 

so it won’t try to reach out,

so it won’t let new branches grow

when i’m lying on the stomach,

eyes squinted, staying afloat,

trying to keep a flooding in

 

the familiar warmth

underneath the tips of my fingers,

the place where fantasies are being born, never truly grows cold