In my nightmares.
I see you sit there.
Sitting alone at rivers edge.
I'm almost positive that your're dead.
Because you don't move inside my head.
Roses forming where thorns once fell.
He who desires but does not receive.
Is but a burden upon this green earth.
Conform to keep you inside prison walls.
Reality seeks fantasy in motionless stalls.
As prisoners keep their concubines tied up in knots.
Thursday 5:30pm 3/6/2014