Objects Of Dream Or Illusion? (Repost) Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

The grain of your flesh fits perfectly
against mine,
like images from Eye's Gallery II.
Endulging each other,
tightly pressed, and curling,
dyslexically- at 96 degrees.

Then, feeling like Salvador Dali,
you transform the picture
image.....twisting
in subluxed pose,
and I sense satisfaction
on your moistened brow,
as you pull me in
with breasted grip,
and you coo.....mmmm
just like that-
the two of us, yes-
siamese lovers
joined....at the nethers of romance.
And I ask you....to come with me;
ensconce in my fantasies, incarnate.

But then I am fallen by question
as I rise from a state of existence,
that I felt and thought was a wakened state.
Yet I'm delivered, dripping....
from a REM deep sleep,
sounds of wood-doors and screens
shutting hard behind you.
And, just like that...
you are gone, once again.

Strange shadows circling my eyes
like spinning tops...over my head,
washing the bedroom walls
with nascent dawnlight, as I-
...............................................,
perspire, under ice cold linen,
and thus the only question be:

Were you ever here at all?






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Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR