A rosewater and sugar flavored dream
That stokes a burning star within the heart
And fills the eyes with galaxies a'gleam.
Fantastic hopes rekindled from the dead
Of happy endings no poor odds can thwart
Race through a mind lying awake in bed.
Many a fantasy has filled my head.

I wish a day could stretch beyond its twenty-four hours;
allowing dawn to linger while I savour breakfast in calm;
no frantic check of time as I pour my tea;
no rush to dash for transport or meetings.

Morning light would flood my window long enough;
for slow stretches and thoughtful planning;
I'd arrive at work with minutes to spare;
settle into tasks without scrambling notes.

Lunch would become an unhurried affair;
a proper break with laughter that lasts;
afternoon hours would hum with clear focus;
projects advancing at a steady, unrushed pace.

Evening could unfold like a second dawn;
time to practise hobbies or wander with friends;
family dinners would not be a race against the clock;
conversations deepening as hours drift by.

Social outings need not end at curfew's chime;
late-night talks stretching into starlit freedom;
then at last I'd choose my rest: eight, ten, twelve hours;
each second mine, reclaimed from life's tight measure.

"Have you ever tried choking?" He asked nonchalantly.
“No,” she said. with a wrinkled nose of disapproval

“Want to try it?” His approach couldn't hide his excitement
“Ok,” she said, absent-mindedly running her index finger over his lips.

“you  can  choke  me,” she added slowly,
“if I can stab you repeatedly
with the 7 inch stainless steel
nail-file I keep under my pillow.”
.
.
Songs for this:
Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin
Better By Myself by Hey Violet

once, a blonde, sandy head entered my view,
with eyes of clear skies, shiny drops of dew,
a laugh of windchimes and stars, ringing true,
a smile of cherry cola, sweet and new.
transfixed, i gazed, entranced and enchanted,
at the misty sunlight, almost dancing
around her, as seeds were firmly planted,
at the sight of a nymph prancing.
but suddenly, i was back in English,
and she was looking at me, the angel,
her soft dimples framing her face, sheepish,
as she reached for a pen, somehow graceful,
while i stuttered out a yes, mumbling,
and cupid groaned, my own heart stumbling.

cracks in my knuckles,
notches in my palms,

I fantasize that
you braid my hair and
us lying
       curled around eachother
on my bed.
you
       breathing soflty
inside my arms
as we look
       through the roof's window
at the night,
       crashing gently.