Two-hundred and Seventy-one: the dreamer

the dreamer is a lost and found of puzzle pieces.
magic is strapped in like a roller-coaster ghost.
most of his words are superfluous, not super at
all. this fall, he broke, choking on secret tunes:
fine, fine fine. it’s time he stopped dreaming and
touched himself. shelves and pedestals are not
different. he’s always meant to sing something
else. swinging from sting to sting, he thinks
he loves like a sneeze, wheezing promises
he knows he cannot keep. cannon ball
questions beckon hearts closer until -boom!
zoom in on his faults. start to halt.
realise that he is nothing but a dream.

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Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

6 thoughts on “Two-hundred and Seventy-one: the dreamer”

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