He closes eyes with dreams of troubled hearts and minds,
spits out worldly possessions in his sleep,
falls to Hell with every speckled reply.
He follows fallen devils with a burlap sack of innocence
stapled to the flesh upon his thigh.
Where intent for attention replaced muscled baby's breath,
a cross lies smoldering upon his chest.
What beauty from within withheld from alcoholic quests
tackled never-ending dreams of love and lust above a stalker's conquest.
I watch him with his eyes closed and his hands upon his heart
as he pledges his alliegence to the faith of feeling free,
free inside the star-crossed ideal of a dream deferred from dream,
pulling shoulders from their seams and dripping blood upon the sheets.
Words were open weapons as the truth spilled out in pairs,
doubling anecdotes with antonyms found covering in despair.
What stains upon the roses were the blessings of the beast
as he sits starving for the war's final retreat
from the badlands to the Edens in the bedroom in the corner
of the cheapest local motel down the street.
Haunting smiles decay with fear and jealousy,
loathing eyes and his howls are heard erupting in the pillows where he lay,
resting, never peaceful, with his eyes closed face down
simply, salty disappointment dripping from his skin to linen's comfort cage.
Rest and let the dreams exist inside a fearsome head,
where your mind sees what your eyes won't underneath a velvet blanket,
feeling sorry for yourself and feeling pity on your deathbed
as your hollow heart is sinking yet again and yet again.
And yet again I watch my poison work its way between your veins,
boiling impulse to the anger of a serpent in a cage.
Was your dream another nightmare at the truth of my free will
or the freedom that was lost within my dreams?