My dreams are not Technicolor flashes these days.
Now they flow and undulate
A seething ocean
Pushed by a
Distant storm.

I have been here before – where his cock
Sounds retreat under the flag-sheet.
It lowers slowly, diminishing as we melt
Into a calm pool while the world returns.
I contemplate the love fallen.

We drift like leaves
We do not know we are dead.
We revel in the wind
Confuse it for life
Twisting and circling in gutters and ditches.

My dreams undulate
Like the ocean fights containment
The world is never big enough
I hit the edges
And spill the bathwater.


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