I have no idea what I'm doing.
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Untitled (Dream)
I met the girl of my dreams last night in my sleep.
She was out of time and spoke in dulcet whisper.
Of holocausts, purges and war.
Of beggers and tramps begging not for money but freedom.
Begging for time.
Begging for an end to the cycle.
Begging for madness.
Begging for war.
War of ideas for the sake of ideas.
She tells the story, the poem and the song.
The painting.
The sculpture.
The symposium.
The revolution.
The Revelation.
She tells of the peace.
She tells of the freedom.
She tells of the beggining.
She tells of the defeat of the whore.
She tells.
She tells and she is gone.
She tells and I am awake.
She is gone.
I return to the whore.
