It smells like sherbet at midnight,

When my musings have run together in rainbow;

ruined streams reminding me of pre-imagined summers

Spent fanning away the slurping

Mosquitoes. I've

Gone astray, fallen in,

Into forest-covered traps that hide closet romantics.

It's silly, I admit—

But since when have confessions solved anything?


So still I sit in this Technicolor puddle (mess),

Dripping in fantastical (impossible!) notions;

Scenarios running through my head, gleeful,


fermenting in love-sick attitudes

That get me nowhere fast.

Rewind, fast-forward,

It's all the same in any motion;

Still a dreamer's sigh,

still a dream,

Banana split reality.

fast and senseless! we're studying poetry in english. I never realized how much thought poets put into crafting poems. for me I just kind of vomit words without thinking! :)