“Dreamscape” – Chris Pardal
fantasize, blue eyes, devise plans and schemes.
anything to get you here, near me to clear the endless grey skies.
kiss, hug, hold, taste, lick,
touch, fuck, fold clothes, pack your suitcase quick.
my hard dick aches, throbs, earthquakes shake, rattle and roll when your sweet pussy flows raindrops on my face.
a sugary taste glazed essence of your legs embraced, wrapped around my head.
get the fuck in my bed. on the floor, kitchen, table, shower.
flowers, dinner, chocolate, dessert.
hold hands, beach walks, long talks, smooth waves and soft sands.
pierced tongue kisses, shooting star wishes,
midnight ice cream sundae dishes.
endless silent stares, playing with your hair,
imported beer, fear of coming goodbye tears.
a weekend fling, sing in the rain, pain leaves when leaves colors change and strangers meet.
yours to keep, sleep by my side for eternity,
uncertainty kills, thrills, sends chills through me.
roller coasters, bungee jumps, pumps and cocktail dresses.
cupid blesses, arrows shot, heart’s hit, revisit love, doves fly and don’t cry.
wedding rings bells, yells and screams, streams of rice flies, family’s cries, sighs, hello honeymoon goodbyes.
alarms awake, break dreams, try, wish, hope to remember,
cope ’til September, fires now embers.
the colors were brilliant, resilient, fluorescent, now jaded
degraded greys, black and blue bruises faded.
frayed seams on tattered jeans. battered and baggy. shaggy hair and a face full of scruff.
rough, ratty and wasted. chapped lips that once tasted hope.
hopes to one day make it. make a castle high, tickle the sky.
clouds laugh and sneeze, the breeze topples my creation.
a castle made of sand, mud and devastation.
everything i cant be, i can be if i build a ship and you move the sea. waves you control, power you hold, the buyer of the soul i sold for an ocean full of dreams that are too old be dreams.
forgive me world, not for screaming but for ending the dreaming.
little boys get old. Florida gets cold. no longer bold,
but timid, yet livid that I’m silent, no longer defiant.
a quitter quitted long before it’s admitted. throw in the towel, i give up.
fuck it, pick up my bucket and walk away.
strut for a slut. loud, proud and faker than her tits, ego and nails. i move like a snail.
i turn and learn that u r there. I stare pinch myself and believe. deceiving whores end their war with me with you my protector. my love, my life, my dream come true and new wife.
Run through the sand and stand facing nothing…
…a mirage. a collage of imaginary images.
i feel zeal, steal strength, and believe in myself again…
…just knowing you’re real.
– ©2012 Chris Pardal