Starved On The Dreams Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I wont see you now,
My eyes have cracked
On the edge of the bowl
And they run up the hill
Away from the obligations
You would give
With the strange sugars you
Would mix them in only
To die with another boy by
The moon dipping into the
Mediterranean Sea
In North Eastern Spain
Where trains drive through Christmas
With stolen guitars
Made by grandfathers
When I am away;
No, I will not enjoy with your
Ingredients,
All the parts you take in your
Room
When you turn on and off
When even dwarves start small
Where the green ants dream
They cover the places on your
Body I would like to cover,
The places you hang-up at night
And cloth in the birthing daylight
Of cliffs
My body climbs away from you
Now
My eyes go way up the cliffs
Above tree-line where the
Angels hook them to the
Burden of dreams
And they run up from the sky
The first remembered tears
Of a young boy caught and
Starved on the dreams.