playd8

smile bright 

god is sunshine

melting laughter

out the gutter 

something right 

weak hands 

kisses, hugs

keeping straight faced

getting high 

rolling circles 

round my cuboid 

you’re not a big drinker 

and I get so serious 

don’t know what time it was 

lookin’ so perfect 

high hopes

though there’s fire 

burning in the distance 

forever after 

doesn’t exist 

groovy 

baby spin it 

forget 

like the first time 

like the last time 

right now 

right now we got sunshine 

god is light reflecting

off your eyes 

Dreamscape 

They touched pinkie

to thumb, an alchemical

devilish hand gesture

peering through masked eyes

dark figures, religious, occult

running for the elevator

can’t get out of this one

fast enough

finger-slamming the button

“C’mon, c’mon!”

two floors up, eyes wide shut

Tail lights in the forest

white van, he’s handsome

park alongside a trail

hop out to take a piss

we were roaming

we were vagabonds with

candid grins

we took photos

naked in the moonlight

Blue ocean brimming

old man, glass eye, wrinkled grin

he took us out in his boat

magic whirlwind of white

water splashing

hundreds of feet high

swirling, we were flying

subconscious vessel story

into the deep Jung depths

of finding one another

peered into your soul for

just a moment, or was it hours

we held hands

even though we were sinking

we were dreaming

just falling

élan

thistles slip into thumps

forests covered in dust

words flowing, silence

each simple

ticking heart 

violent beginnings like

skipping a boulder 

on shallow water

panting, soft 

wave of emotion this slow

buildup, laughter 

to jump out 

of safety strings, knotted

illusion of home

it was never

freedom

shrouded in 

counterfeit cardboard hugs

going to pour all of it

into the hot pot of

self, loving sensual, open 

for my sanity 

to sleep on my own, touching 

knowing those hands 

we’ll come

I can breathe, twist 

wring the fog machine out

when you find me

I’ll be laughing 

creating coloured cobwebs

in hiking boots 

dresses and oysters

full throttle to the coast 

there’s freedom 

in love and

peace in cold palms 

pressed into a spirit 

I know what I want

Paper Doll

I’m looking for my paper doll. The one that I’d put super hero capes on. I’ve had it forever. Tucked away in a little box somewhere. Where the fuck is she? I used to draw these Wonder Woman outfits, sometimes she’d be an Amazonian goddess.

It really was the coolest thing.

I can’t find her anywhere. My little paper doll. The one that used to be so strong for me. These little outfits that I’ve drawn. They’re not big enough for me.

I drove this puttering, white convertible in my dream. She wasn’t a doll. But she was paper. Flip flapping when I looked into the mirror. I had this crinkly face, but not like wrinkles, I wasn’t old. I was her. I was paper.

I’d park the car and open the trunk. All the outfits that I’d dream up as a kid, they were real and I could put them on.

It was in the middle of the desert. There was this spinning contraption, this hobby-horse of sorts. It had these streamlining, spinning whirls of colour. It was this levitating sort of alive box. I was headed straight for it in the middle of nowhere. Like it contained all the answers.

But that image kept distracting me. My face as paper. I guess the more I focused on it, the more this world would shatter. The corners of reality coming undone. I stopped trying to get there. I couldn’t control it anymore.

I pulled over and starting tearing at this paper all around me. The skies, the distant contraption, whatever the hell that thing was. It all came undone. Then I started tearing at me. Pulling and ripping apart the very fabric of my being.

It was just this whiteness. This blank. Nothing.
The peace of it.

I found the doll. She always looks so different than how you remembered her.

I’ll rip her up into a million little pieces and let the quails eat me.
What happens when I don’t have the totem anymore.

When I am her?