Hope sometimes nestles
itself within my thinking,
And I wonder if soon
someone will come to save me.
It's been a while since
I've felt one hundred percent,
Probably because fifty
percent is living in someone else.
To be alone is a curse
disguised as some kind of blessing,
A lonesome mattress just
as desperate as I am.
These thought bubbles
interrupt my sleeping,
Last night I dreamed of
washing dishes.
Somehow that transformed
into a bunch of crabs,
Falling from a rack above
into the dish water.
I woke up and thought to
myself in a quiet voice,
What the fuck was that all
about.
Had I an occupant beside
me on this mattress,
I could have had a great
discussion.
Or he would of disregarded
me completely,
Telling me to shut up and
go back to sleep.
That's where the curse
comes crashing in,
An indecisive fantasy born
from insecurity.
I really hope I don't
dream of crabs tonight,
Perhaps I could dream of a
nice tropical place.
Yet, they would absolutely
have crabs there,
So maybe I could dream of
a really nice date.
A bottle of wine at home
with some Chinese,
No seafood, just some much
needed cuddling.