Iced dreams weigh heavy
on my heart;
and while I sleep my demons die,
but when I wake the echoes cry.
This quicksand keeps tugging;
tug, tugging at my feet.
Chained to my own impatience
as the vultures circle above;
I’m juggling the frustrations of failure
while the angels harmonize with Spanish guitars.
Charcoal tears stain my face,
nicotine stains my eyes;
and my nervous feelings start to fade
as the bleeding cello of infinite happiness
tickles my eardrums.
My darling, life is hard;
I’m talking having open wounds on your wrists
and being forced to work in a lemonade factory
hand squeezing gallons of juice, hard.
But no one said paranoia was fun,
that is, no one but me.
Dancing with indifference under the starlight,
my lover’s eyes flutter,
while our feet shuffle to the beat
of my anxiety.
Make sure to love me,
even when I’m gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem