Just another Dream
Gathered to my craven chest
like cherished children
are illusions, delusions
that scorch and cut
When I see through them
they scatter
like ashes, like confetti --
Why can't I remember?
Why do I maintain
a defective posture?
Is it a role I frivolously fashion
or merely agree to play?
Dissonant discord quakes
like jarring jabs from a drunken boxer
leading to a fervent frenzy-seek
for harmonious reconstruction.
Why do I forget?
Written for Vice/Versa # 10 @ Poets United</a>