dream a little dream of me.

gazing down an empty bottle

like a looking glass of a child,

i press the cold to my eye,

seeing distorted and dysfunctional images.

looking for love,

but i don’t want to forget myself.

the amber haze,

lilac wine,

cherry cola,

filled with ambitious trust

and sealed with a dreary haze.

i’m lost in a confused, shallow,

self made and proclaimed

brain-maze.

the pack rests on the coffee table,

as the windows scream,

i wonder what dreams

will haunt my living days this time.

as i sleep,

i wonder what paradise i will be met with this time.

after all, when my body crumbles to ash,

i will ask,

is it only a matter of time?

until my blood runs from my head to my toes,

out my muscles and bones,

until they creak and age,

and my skin is stripped away.

when the clock finally drips off the counter,

am i tucked in a grave?

will the sun still set?

my eyes will stay kept?

will you mourn my ever pending and accumulating death?

yes,

the bottle is empty,

and i am lost in the maze,

but yet, my mind

plays these silly, silly games.