to my dear me,
appearing still in three d

i remember you
playing catch with me
trying to out run me
childishly and laughing

i remember you
grimacing a svelter figure
composing a pose
with some lover

i notice often now your alarm
for this unidimensional you
gets plural in the downing of days
and you look for which of me is you then

but which of you is me then
is really what's troubling you
because don't you see it you're growing flat
and i surely dream not of roundness

so dear me in such a
dimension of extinction
oblige me and let me catch you
you my antumbra from my point of view

you run out of light i am a lesser pale shade of you
we know we shall fully fit into a penumbra

                                                       ­                                  your devoted shadow

I feel so much better,
On another planet, in another universe,
Not on the couch, after too much wine,
Or in the car, too high.
Watching all their faces,
Watching me,
Look at me,
Look at me.
I lack the the understanding of reality.
Chasing after the stars in the trees,
I am the grass, the flowers all smiling.
I am young but I am distant from the thoughts I was born into,
Just looking at them look at me.
Look at me,
Look at me.

His hands,
His hands,
He didn't have the right hands.

They weren't shaped right,
They weren't the right size,
They didn't feel right pressed against my body.
His hands didn't cup my ******* with love.
They didn't look like those of a strong man.

I've dreamed of these hands since I was young,
And I don't know why.
I haven't been able to find the right ones.

The right touch,
The right grasp,
The right hands.

I can see the veins,
Pressing against the surface of his skin.
The small lines sprawled across his palms.
His fingers a certain length,
His knuckles a certain size.
His hands,
The right ones.

Man of my dreams,
Only in my dreams,
His hands in my heart,
His hands the right hands.