Poetry

Dream Wars

What are the frames like

surrounding your dreams?

Is everything separate,

preventing thoughts from straying one to another?

Rigid uniformity, same shape, same style

down to the wire used to string them up.

Do you ever take them down, remove the frames completely,

throw the thin sheeting into the air

and see what part of you it settles next to?

What if it strayed into your motivation,

urged you to want it, achieve it,

regardless of whether it would be deemed proper,

respectable, useful to society?

I see the struggle behind your eyes as you think

how to answer, your want for freedom

fighting with your self-restraint, trained

from birth to keep a tight rein on

wishing upon ‘impossibilities’.

I want to tell you how to overpower it.

But it’s one of those times

when you have to find the answer.

What are your dreams telling you?

Poetry

Glass Walls

You’re grinning at me

and I can tell it’s real because it reaches your eyes.

We’re working together so closely that we can touch,

lean against each other if we wanted.

And yet our lips have lost the ability to form words,

to speak the way we speak

freely

when we don’t have to hide,

don’t have to pretend

that the extent of our friendship

is a few words in passing.

A pane of glass would be less of a barrier,

at least it could be broken.

Poetry

Simulacrum

I cry rainbows at night when I think no-one else is near. Flower skeletons decay even more in my mind and silhouettes of birds turn out to be no more than shaped words. Carefully chosen, trimmed to perfection like a prize bonsai tree. My wings have been clipped. I’ve been pressed against pages leaving only an imprint behind. I am not myself. I am the person someone else wants to see.