your dreams are a lot like braids:
it takes love and time to make them
but just a slip of the hand for an unfortunate
unfold
"it's gonna be ok!"-you say
until it becomes clear
that crowds,odd scents,unbearable images
are just too much for
a feeble heart
...
your heart
then come wicked lights,mindblowing sounds,
touches that imprint themselves onto
naked bones...
so easy,so light,
somewhere between bliss and Hell
is the moment when you decide
that life through closed eyelids
is more sane
to watch
if only those empty streets
were friendlier,
if only loneliness wouldn't feel
this good...
maybe the storm will cleanse
our future.
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