In my dreams
The dead walk among the living as their partner, chained to the memory,
On constant replay.
I am watching some of the dead,
With haunted eyes,
They are whispering,
Let me go,
I am just a passenger on this travel,
Towards something unknown and frighteningly beautiful called life,
I am on my way to get a tattoo touch up but I end up making out with the artist,
I don’t know his name. I ask myself,
Should I?
These actions are as mysterious as the dead in my dreams,
Walking back home,
I am visiting the farm of my friend on Lopez, the wolf island,
My wildness is following behind me,
My sex scent lingering as a trail,
And I wake up knowing
Tomorrow is another day
Where I walk among the living,
My ghost self stuck in a dream.
