Sweet dreams will fly away – Where. Now. Is.
Anger, then helplessness
ramming retreating remembering
pushing falling losing
shaking trembling fingers.
Doing the wrong thing in whose eyes?
Where is this right path of righteousness?
Can I find it in interwoven dreams?
Wearing re-washed faded shredded fabric and
needles of masochistic ambition zigzagging towards patches of light
they prick leaving pearls of blood for less inspirational fringes
frayed fond useless cast-offs
new apartments and a new life
built on those clothes we are no longer wearing
favorites with nothing but holes left
I was 14 years old when I wore that nightgown
now faded flannel polishing cloth
used to wax the car