the platitudes of willful resemblance

idle incognito

rifling closets and clothes hampers

looking for colorful oxfords

tumultuous

and crying with one hand on the bottle

and one foot on the brass rail

(but don’t interpret)

in dream

childhoods bedroom

reading

each written line in each book touched, screaming

magazines screaming, wallpaper screaming

I’m screaming, bloody and wasted

(this is no way to conduct a dream)

I follow her into bathroom, now a party,

we kiss grab ass and I’m hard

when I awake temporarily and tremble

step outside for  nicotine relief

refusing to return to same dream

wearing no underwear, underwater

(accept drowning as part parcel)

sweating,

dark,

naked,

sheets, pillow soaked

–        awake

retreating to thought and space

(!)