Three nights in a row of bad dreams
all about people who matter to me,
so much
but who are on the edges
of my reality
in themselves dream characters struggling
to break the barrier between sleeping and
waking- through
costumes, downers
and self-parody.
They are them
but they are in me, too
Ones who draw out
the viscous lump that is self-hate
also a sharp and stabbing thing
it is never present in the dream-world
but rather keeps me up
very late
to have catch-22s in the kitchen.
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