I found myself
hiding under a pillow.
Pain and abandonment buried me
until I suffocated –
Lying alone creates a dark, inescapable melancholy.
The thought of waking haunts my sleep
I dream of sex - a puzzle
that twists and pulls,
creating a thirst
that awakens me unaccompanied.
The hyperbole of my desire disguises its color
like misogyny manifested in an anemone.
It is a sunflower that flows and waves,
drowning in the deep blue tears
of heaven’s heartbreak.
It steals the thoughts from my mind
and shapes them into dreams that should not exist.
But from them my reality stems.
My vertigo is an offshoot of the tragedy of life,
of existence,
of being,
of me.
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