Scent of Rain
I breathe her scent
deep earthy smell
of sprinkling rain
ozone of her essence
the scent of
freshly washed laundry
exotic fibers of lust
erotic murmur of nature
a silent opaque mist
steaming on naked skin
scent of blue condensation
liquid sunshine of her soul
aphrodisiac aroma
of gentle rain
ozone of the gods
showers stirring
my aroused senses
dancing with me
in simplicity of time
wafting perfume
of last night’s ardor
incense of her soul.
Somnambulist
Once more
For the ten thousandth time
Travelling to that place
Where numb
I trade my humanity
For enough to fuel
My continued existence
Each day I am
A somnambulist
Watching the road ahead
But how does an eye work
Fragile sac of jelly
Rods and cones, they say
Grasping at spectral input
Invisible analysts
Arranging data to make sense
To a brain that is made
Of meat
Do those analysts show me reality
Or only disguise
A cthulhoid impossibility
Protecting my meat from madness
This diurnal world
Fed by rods and cones
Is it truth
Or do I only live nocturnally
When the ghost that is me
Leaps free of its flesh costume
And wanders
Till the moment I rise
To somnambulate through
What I'm not sure
Is real life
Do the analysts know your face?
Are they the ones that imprinted you
So sweetly upon my vision
And my core
While fragments of remembrances
Incomplete dream threads
Whisper up the back of my neck
Shivering
For an instant returning to
The dream journey
The real life I forget each waking
Bursting into momentary mist
When I try to grasp
