I'm not feeling very well
I can tell;
the light circuits connect partially only,
flickering on and off here and there,
waiting for reactions around.
The show was the saddest I've been to,
all alone in a shit room.
And the sadness in me ferments like baked goods,
I swallow and allow myself to walk through
everything I've been up to.
I could have met you,
but I knew my body ached for a lifeline,
and I'd find myself in need of a masseuse,
losing myself, out of control,
like brakes and lights of a car spinning around
before the big crash.
So I dash,
run to,
and think of you.
I can see the vision of everything
like it is a dream of you and me
between bedsheets
where you try to please
every bit of me
as I give in blushingly, hesitatingly,
into you
to soak me up in a dream
that will cure me.
Can someone please tell
what is wrong with me?
The nightmares stopped
since you kissed me;
so what is this disease I suffer
from now?
