They float on as the wind moves through the air.
They bring you messages of sweet lullabies which many long to hear.
Dreams.
What do my dreams say?
They warn. They provoke. They test. They protect. They whisper sweet projections of nothings that you’d die to hear.
Dreams.
I love my dreams. Good or bad. Meaningful or not. Sad or not.
They have served me well. And with this I tell, the most alarming story yet to surface.
I dreamed you into life.
I dreamed you into my life.
All the preparation I have been making,
All the crap that I have been through.
All the desires I have been faking were only setting me up for you.
I don’t quite understand it.
I don’t even think I want to. Because the senseless part of all this is the senses I am trying to pull through.
My captivation by you is outside of your existence, that the surface on which you linger replicates,
and doubles over the desire that purrs within me.
My captivation by you enamours that which I project and protect.
The sweet innocence of your existence consumes my incandescent passion and desire to have you.
To have you and only you.
To see you and only you.
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