Bleach me in swishes of red paint
that lulls me into existence
making me feel alive.

Siphon my dreams
and leave me to dry out
in the sparking of summer heat.

Bottle my impish laughter
and give it back to me when i’m sad
and those neon lights in me refuse to shine.

Clasp me to something real
i’d like to rendezvous with time
and give him a piece of my mind.

Blame the optimists
when those pretty dreams don’t come true
and we’ve all just wasted our lives
for things that will never happen.

Give me wings not because i want to fly
but because i don’t want to hit the ground again.