I wake to lingering warnings:
Suffocated between insomnia and sleeping pills
I must be dreaming about you.
It pisses me off,
your lyrical subconscious presence far too elevated for your pathetic reality.
It pours, flooding words escaping my cracked hands
and I wonder if I can recreate you long enough to edit you into
In nightmares, too, you tease:
waking in cold sweat and
embarrassed regret: egotistical
too good to waste.