while sleepwalking the dream deferred
I was then sewn up, folded down, as my voice went unheard
my spirit yet sought to eat the written word
as my midnight repentance’s slurred…

to underline the meaning of the said pitch
jars of stones, drawers of spells, are requesting a stitch
placement – where could the key abide?
if not in a enclosed location – where memories are kept far and wide!

meanwhile the coattail
of their foundation proved genuinely steady
but the camisole was see through,
collapsing my bashfulness, surrendering me ready…

as wavy fiction produces depictions of various inflictions
many of which attempt to make clear sense 
or else the pot is in need of a rinse
for the container can only contain so much, before spilling over
it’s been said : reality is a four dimensional clover.

so
i’ve come to the same
conclusion. 
a route destined to a recurring confusion.
like a cul-de-sac – the ‘whereabouts’ ain’t amounting to jack!

i’ve test drove many herbs & clusters:
for it provided a pleasure i dreamed to be the case. 
flowers rooted in the soil but soon destined to be inside of a vase. 

the memory of life wishes to revive. 
but in between my closing eyes, this departure must contrive. 
to a place I’ve known? i’m kept grown!

when the aura comes around once more – what then, is left to be obtained? besides allergies from the flowers which have left me pained!
maybe some visualizations are better seen within the dream? 
it need not be for real, otherwise my hesitations will scream!

upon the alarm, my trepidation returns deferred
sleeping and waking life diffusing my fears into me like a songbird

but i missed the motion sought to keep me dancing
instead my spelling was silenced to restless nights romancing
sliced by the cut : as to excite the allure of the jiggly phat, what?

“ease on out of that pie!”
or else you‘ll DYE : teeth darker than mud – ruining those pearly whites for a musty crud!
wouldn’t that be a shame?
ha, i can explain! :::

as forces are sent to convict – the mind of the infidel because they dared to call out the BULL, which would have otherwise continued stubbornly stool.
buried underneath, allowing advantages to be traced! some have already gone to waste, others? are lurking by at an inquisitive pace!

thus, this dREaM DeFeRrEd requires a writing down of every emotion stirred
to embrace : the flower & vase

before it goes away into withering decay. knowing that this transfer must occur, despite the lines which will inevitably blur!
….

as you were, The Game is Over for my Coeur…   blessings and light to Yael Naim & David Donatien for all of their timeless offerings. this one goes all the way ❤