you are not welcome in my dreams.
a poem.
i hear cries for help
in my dreams sometimes
sullen, sulking, moping
you are not welcome in my dreams
i cannot help you. this place is
closed.
you can
talk to me or not. but you’re not welcome
in my subconscious
i’m driving all of you out
i’m cleaning house, cutting ties
if you want to know me, you can
start all over.
i’m a different person
and i am not as patient
as the person you met.
you’re not welcome in my dreams
get sober
go to therapy
talk to your
mom or friends or spouse or
whoever — but i’m done.
i am not a prop, i am not convenient
i do not want to listen to you
maybe, if you paid me.
i am not a dumpster for your feelings
i am not a rehab center
i do not want to feel like
a secret
maybe, if you paid me.
otherwise, fuck it — you’re not
allowed in my dreams.
you are not welcome in my dreams
all i want when i go there is an ocean and flowers
i want to get rid of the
junk and clutter
you can bother me in my waking life if you ever
grow the nerve but
get out of here, like a stray dog
looking for scraps of love
get out of here.
fuckin
scram.
