Shakespearian Dreamland

Memories run through my mind like a thin homeless man that is never quite fast enough to get out of the weather

Detained I am

By the sensual hands of her image

Piano-like finger play my spine

Finding my perspicuous locks

Burning rage forcing her lips to mine

Dripping with the sweet taste of her tangerine tongue

The nectar of emotions I drink down

Still my lust is parched, unquenchable

We part only to gaze

Into our sultry wanton eyes amorous with…

Lips in union once more

We forcefully test our passion

With grappling hands of trust

But not in trust

Trust in knowing what the other desires

Instinctively we react

Intoxicated with the hypnotic scent of jealously

I wish I were her/she were me

Jealous that one will give greater

Jealous that one will receive greater

Love, no lust, this twisted game

This is our pleasure…

Pleasure they say, pleasure in what way

Torture and mental anguish sounds fair

Oh, my demented torturous soul

Pierced through with thoughts

My ID, my ego could not subdue

I am a miserable wanton wretch

Again

Yet my eyes push fiercely upon their lids

Sleep can wait, she must live

She must live now

A half-torn smile contorts my wearied face

Ah, sweet seductive sleep

(eyes closing, yet my mind detest)

Fear not feeble brow for on the morrow

She shall return with unwept damnation

Like… a thin homeless man who is never quite fast enough to get out of the weather