Surface

With opening my eyes, the world of dreams roles off my face, like drops of water.
Into the sunlight, breaking through the surface, I feel the warmth.
Yet, I feel the pull.

Still soaked with fantasies and terrors, I am suspended, dripping.
To stretch and to walk, to dry my skin;
To clothe myself in lucid fabric, this is the way.

Still, my heart begs the ocean to form and meet it.
I pull the underworld from its eternal basin,
And flood the sun with crested waves of confused desires.

Until, at once, I am rejected, and sent back to the depths.
This day is not what was expected.
I’ve become consumed.

Beneath the surface, I wonder what I may have missed.
So infinite are the tides of this body, so finite its time.
The world of dreams soon drowns in the hope of basking in the sun.

A Whisper

Do you believe,
that gods can bleed?
Have you seen enough,
to conceive of,
divine mortality?
What would it mean for us?
We who must develop love
Of vulnerability,
Of blood,
Of death.
All so we may draw
our final breath in peace,
with our minds,
and our dreams,
drifting
in the cosmic seas
of infinite night,
and lovely,
lonely starlight.