Poet13's Blog

The problem is I’d rather be with other people than be with another person
I dream of randy reptile men and mechanical pigeons that transform into cats
I don’t know what any of it means I am the dreamer and I am the subject of my dreams
I see nothing beyond myself the images are manufactured with pieces of broken mirrors

I assemble them within the central resource library of my mind
Check me out I’m an open book with blank pages and a crooked spine
My cover is blown my dry guts spill out in wads of shredded paper

I peel away sheaves of skin to reveal flayed muscle and frayed arteries
I am the visible man my purpose is etched upon my transparent features
I am the instrument of my will and of my ignorance there must be others like me
The painful embrace of exposed nerves this burning flesh should not keep us apart