in::dreams

they walk
they talk
they laugh
they kiss
they hug
they part.

...

they meet again...

where you are needed ...

he sits in his garden
right next to the dead tree
some garbage thrown all around
picks up his guitar ...

he's real
...

the taste of her lips
still on his

her touch

her scent
he remembers it very well

his mind circles around her

he breathes her
inside his deepest soul

...

come home,

where you are queen

over oceans and
territories

you reign

no one could ever cause you pain

come here

come home

come to my planet.

(i need you here...)

... it felt right

they swayed together

a low lit room

attraction
feelings
...
too much ..

they bond

unite

flow along the line

they were caught
their lips

melting through

a sneak peek from above would only see a drop
falling
down

splashing

scattering

to be formed

again

magically

illusion

it seems good

it feels good
it feels right

angels and sailors

always a playground instructor, never a killer,
always a bridesmaid on the verge of fame or over,
he maneuvered two girls in to his hotel room. one a friend, the other, the young one, a newer stranger
vaguely mexican or puerto rican.
poor boys thighs and buttocks scarred by a father's belt, she's trying to rise.
story of her boyfriend, of teenage stoned death games, handsome lad, dead in a car.
confusion.
no connections.
come here.
i love you.
peace on earth.
will you die for me?
eat me.
this way.


[...]


i'm surprised you could get it up.
he whips her lightly, sardonically, with belt.
haven't i been through enough? she asks,now dressed and leaving
the spanish girl begins to bleed; she says her period. it's catholic heaven.
i have an ancient indian crucifix around my neck, my chest is hard and brown.
lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virgin,
we could plan a murder,
or start a religion...




jim morrison