Bitter

I hope lovers fall asleep and never wake up
like the ones at Pompeii.
I hope they find dreams in each other's arms 

and they never wake up.

It may be ill of me to wish such a curse

upon all the lovers in the world

but I wish not for them to know

how cruel the world is. 

For once they are awake

they are bound to be bitter.

Bitter towards the broken dreams

and towards each other.

I hope the lovers are spared of this bitterness, 

which seems so human in it's own fault

Maybe if all the lovers fell asleep at once,

the world will be rid of love.

Love is the hope in the darkest times,

without lovers, will we still know how to love?

Test out your humanity.

Will new lovers evolve, who never sleep?

Eggshells

I don't know who I am dreaming of anymore
but my dreams feel beautiful.

I need to put up curtains 

so that I can sleep.

The sun is too bright, 

however you see it.

You can't see the sun from my bedroom window,

hell you can't see anything but white walls.

There is a wall right next to it, 

one in front of it and a few surrounding it, 

Yet the sunlight shines through the vines climbing on the grill

and at it's peak, reflect off the wall and into my eyes.

What ever did I do to the architect of the house and the sun

that they push my sleep away through their schemes. 

Yet the lizard on my window grill 

appreciates their shenanigans.

It lazes in the light, 

the blood running warm

as I squint on my glowing screen 

to differentiate between we're and were.

We are in a room together.

Laughing under covers in the winter 

talking about drugs and dolphins

men shitting their pants while riding motorcycles

I tell you the story of the sailor who the sea was in love with

and how she fell out of love

into a cold and quiet sense

like a marriage that fell apart

I saw all of it unfold in a dream.

We were in a room together.

But now I can't stand the thought of it.

How can you face me again?

How can I face you without thinking twice

without the thought of slapping you crossing my mind

But I'll always tell you the story of how much the ocean loved the sailor

and how he watched the life in her, 

hoping he could have loved her more.

When all he got were the quiet still waves,

he wished to stir her up with his own hands-splashing in the water.

What is the touch of someone you loved 

against an ocean of cold depth. 

Life frozen in glaciers, 

waiting for the summer to come 

and bring her back life.