trade my dreams for ice cream
-swap nightmares for vanilla chill
(i'm wandering naked throught parking lots,
i'm being raped by my father,
my arms and legs are snapping off
...and i can't scream.)
i'll trade my dreams for ice cream
-flavors for rest
sweet & sticky, dripping down my chin
forcing me to realize
i am AWAKE.
i'll trade my dreams for ice cream
i prefer melting to tossing/turning
tasting to flailing
ice cream to dreaming.
i hate these dirty words that echo through my mind as i lose my balance and fall off the edge--down, down, DOWN--wearing nothing but a silent, gaping mouth, fear in my eyes & in my gut; aching limbs intensify as i fall & fall (never nearing bottom) and the wolves somehow catch up to me, even in my rapid descent, and greedily tear my flesh/devour my soul
...and all the while i can't scream.
*no place like home*
.fairy tales.
next road note.
