I am dreaming, dreaming of chocolate chip ice cream, your voice and fresh clay. Half asleep I see angels, smoking my cigarettes in my porcelain bathroom, beckoning me.They play in my hair and dance on my Spanish tile floor. Funny that they all look like me.Stay awhile, I say. Brush the dew from my eyes and and show me myself.These lessons are tearing my world apart. I never did learn the easy way... I look aroung at these tiny me/angels and sob. Even in my dreams I am still only thinking of myself,that is why you packed up my heart, placed it in the back seat of your car,and drove away, never looking back. Shaking back into my dream, I ask these tiny cherubs why, why they are here? In reply, they say, we have always wanted to sit in a porcelain bathtub and smoke cigarettes...with the devil. So you were right all along...
Reason for writing:
Dreams are funny things, this one did happen. I know its not really a poem, but it should be heard...
Birth sign: Not entered
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