Lazy lady empty belly, in my dream.
Indolent town drifting in time, aimlessly.
Blank expressions from every star from here to
Cassiopeia.
Recurring and wilted flowers everywhere,
with stale perfume and unmade beds in rented
rooms that all look; cold and blank as granite stone;
habitually.
Dreaming in dreams, temporary decampment,
only to find the waking hours disappointing
with empty purse and reflections from mirrors;
paradoxical.
True awakening in cathedrals, candles light
showing the way, the only way to repent
when the solemn dreams scare the shit out of you;
ecclesiastic.















34 old applause
