Dirt Dreams

walking to go nowhere a friend said to me I dress well for a STR8 guy but I think with my poetry and style people think I am gay... not that that is bad and I had to speak up and say... "Hell no it's not a bad thing to be gay, its just a lonely thing..."

sitting just to sit... watching a DVD about Porto Rican poetry admiring the honesty spoken but when it's my turn to speak I close up like a virgin in a pew in a Baptist church always outside looking in... while I know i have the key but it seems I'm denying me entry into my own space WHY?

silencing the dream is familiar to this country boy who had..., high rise, high hopes pie in the sky dreams that seemed to end in a fairytale w/no morals or plot a loop of illusions with no substance

digging in a barren land will yield no fruit unless you are into dirt. ..and what is dirt? other than the remains of those who struggled before us wrestling with the same thoughts/ideas we spew out nightly

so let me lay naked in the dirt... rolling with my relations until the dirt clothes my body and I walk forward making all our dreams come true carrying on as if I stopped... I'd lose my place in this cosmic dream

awakening options asking what would I see? Would you all still be here? or... Are you all passing thoughts in my illusion/delusion

Teetering with reality resting on a pin head, I don't care for in this moment... I am alive