shriveled, broken, orange leaves,
frayed edges connected to the bone,
there’s nothing my heart resembles more.
Fingers trail water as I walk on by,
underneath the curtain of a desert sky,
I stare blankly, waiting for the show to begin,
but always false awaken to this elaborate dream.
My last reality, was the breath of you,
body drenched, petrichor, the rain in june,
water streaming down your lips,
“Stay, don’t close your eyes,” the record hissed.
Feet move breathlessly, one sense deprived,
each emotion heightened, each smile contrived,
and I wonder how long this ride goes on,tongue numb,
blue snow and the cold light of dawn.
The sounds of my childhood echo in the wind,
this place, its colors, the stories within
and every scent is perfectly as I dreamed,
everything but me.
Fantasize your return until reality’s bleak,
the breaking ship bleeds an ocean onto my cheeks
as I hang a lantern on my porch to guide you home,
“Jai Gurudeva Om,
Nothing’s gonna change my world,” the record croons,