are they potent with reality?
Ask the stars: they say that
nightmares empower
and that dreams are misunderstood,
spread like violence. (They claw
beneath my eyes: the colors,
the power, vivid like summer.)
The stranger in my life, the prodigy,
the Gollum in my eyes,
senseless with insomnia,
takes a dive into vast passion
with an empty heart.
Can we begin again--
grounded, alone, feeling nothing?
Frozen in time, intoxicated,
shedding memories and
promises into the snow,
two hands regret the becoming of me.
-----
Be as harsh as you want; I've only written this in the last hour.

