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Wet Dream

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I’ve never been so obviously
preternaturally impure.

It’s 4:23 am and you’ve become my habit.
Every error of my day is your beautiful fault
and everything you project
is filled with elegant slang
I may understand
in 20 something years.

Every passer-by is internally judging
the way I walk
in sync with your stride.

We’re watching steam pouring out of every day in August
Staining the mountains
Whispering something in French
Infecting my dreams with
Interruptions.

Like stars in the daytime
We’re speculators of lucid dreams
Falling asleep to the sound of
Silent reveries.
Drifting towards
Uncontrollability.

Killing ourselves slowly
in the back of our minds
underneath a lake filled with mirrors and divas.

You grew up with them.
I looked up to them.

Now they’re gasping for air
Choking on unborn, rotten fame
As we gracefully bathe in self-actualization
Stealing their beauty
Their undeserved perfection.

We watch as their breath escapes them.

You ask me to dance.

And our feet glide along the broken glass
left over from wars and who-knows-what
as we watch ourselves in mutual admiration.
You study the way I move and make sure I’m breathing
I step on your toes and you don’t feel anything
It’s been 20 something hours in this separate world

And all I can do is dance with you.




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