wake up, dreamer.
wake up, dreamer
when poetry stops heartbeats.
it's almost as if the pen
is mightier than god.
and I'm left- slightly broken. it's hopeless
to count stars. because they'll be dead
before you finish. and it becomes
futile. // savage.seductions.
while ripping wings on corner store lighters.
because life in dreaming.
is like knives to the temple. where pens
can't mend the lyrical loops.
and metaphors die worse deaths
than the sky.born- sentience we believe.
and belief can only burn out. in the ending.
so I'm softly saying- wake up, dreamer
the world needs a gift. we're tossing pennies in wells
and wishing on black holes.
so taste the ink.
while we bleed star.screaming
heartaches. and we