i don’t know
what is happening


when i write

i slip into
my persona non grata

my alter ego

the fool.

in the real world
i am a stain
black mold
the fungus among us.

a ball
of withered depression.

the fool though

he wants more
from life.

he dreams of love
the metaphorical her.

of happiness.

he is my mania
given form.

but the mania hasn’t come for weeks now.

the rollercoaster is on free fall.


i have to try
explain this
to a world that
will not

is my everything bagel.

this is me.

really me.


i am not enough.

i have made amends with this
long ago.

i cannot explain it.

the dreamer slowly dies.

8 thoughts on “drea(me)r

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