“A Match Made in Blue”

Dreams are vain, vile creatures,

blind to everything that is not of their own making.

Strutting around, piled high with foolish nonsense and glittering promises.

But we love them anyway.

Orphaned from birth, they spend their lives searching for someone to nurture them.

We just so happen to be equipped for the job.

We ourselves are born with holes in our hearts and ghosts in our heads.

We as a species, are naturals at brave and blind perseverance.

So who is better to dream?

We don’t have much of a choice in the matter, it is what we were born to do.

We are also orphans, in a way.

Created out of sand,

so they say.

A grainy mannequin,

in the image of what we “should” be.

Fuck that.

I’d rather just dream.

“Far from Meeting”

She peers through lenses to see the world,

she sees it through fire.

She believes in solutions and concentrations,

an owl amongst pigeons.

But she is kind.

She doesn’t believe in much,

only what she sees through the smoke.

Her vision is hazy, but she is keen.

She puts her faith in the smeared glass in front of her,

a broken pocket watch without a chain.

She renounced god a long time ago,

breathing through her nose and eating the fire that licked her face.

They collided once,

the flames and the monocle.  

They destroyed each other.

“Falling From Symmetry”

Safe on a tightrope,

falling from a microscope.

Drowning in a pool of stars,

purchasing our pretty scars.

Writing things on the wall,

using honey and a tiny scrawl.

Forever fighting our mirrors,

slaying those ugly little flaws.

This is how we get our claws.

Like Narcissus of old,

trapped in front of a reflection bold.

Only she dislikes what she sees.