Dreaming

So I have been in this bad mood for a few days now, and I thought that there would be no better way to cheer me up than to post a poem I wrote that makes me smile, because of its randomness. It's called "Dreaming" and it is about a guy who can't get over this girl and has all of these whacked out dreams about it. I love this poem for its humor and its underlying seriousness. I hope you enjoy it as well. Maybe I'll write something new in the next few days.

(Here Kaitlin, here's the poem, now leave me alone.

Dreaming

The trees are barren ghosts,
swaying over our new found cemetery.
I play a melody on the flute you left behind and the closet skeletons dance.
Will we ever forget?
I pray every day that we wouldn’t.

The air inside tastes like sour grapes. In moments of despair, I feel
Your touch, soft,
Like the silk ribbons that ties us together as we are miles apart yet we still
Stand next to the elephant that takes up all of the space between us and we wait for
Words, those precious words that we’ve left unsaid. The white noise on our radar
Is drowned out by the sound of a jet engine leaving JFK.
And all I see is an endless runway from which on opposite sides we may never take off.

We lie here miserable in this stale sweetness.
The brownies you made are still sitting on the kitchen counter,
I haven’t touched them for weeks. Speaking of domesticity,
I remember days when I cared about clean clothes and laundry soap smelled heavenly.
Our trust used to be intertwined with hanging strings from neon balloons,
And we traveled the world, skipping stones with Ricky in Nicaragua.

The glory days of grade school storybook dreams.
That was before we educated each other about ourselves.
Forgive me for rambling on, Your touch just whispered sweet nothings before my eyes.
But enough about us. Oh, hell,
They’re all about us.

I found out today that wearing a sombrero reduces skin cancer from burnt past loves.
Tom Cruise told me this after I gave him a lecture on quantum physics.
Of course it didn’t make any sense. Does it ever?
We waxed philosophic on the wonders of Scientology, without you it felt empty.
Meanwhile, the desert cows munch on barren grass.
The flowers turn their cheeks, fading back into black and white photographs;

For you, I jousted with the lions, mere child’s play,
And rode one of Hannibal’s elephants (he was gray, not white).
And waded across the Atlantic to you.
I thought there was still a chemical equation that we had left unbalanced.
(How was I supposed to know that our bonds were merely covalent and not ionic?)

In the end, I will heed no warnings from these hallucinations.
Side effects from staying up late eating contaminated Funyuns in my boxers.
From the shores of Lago de Nicaragua, The mariachi band serenades me in loneliness.
I see the ripples of our skipping stones.