my subconscious makes a fool of me again,
thick heat and the purple warm mud of
southeast asia (which I have never experienced)
and a large room full of steam
and you. you don't know me
(nor do you in waking life)
but i have studied you time upon time
as you enter the contours of my daydreams.
our eyes do connect and there is
something there, an undeveloped spark,
unrequited something...
will you be like all the others?
a temporal figure then a figment then a dream
a wisp tumbling in the wind,
gone forever, or at least far away.
i sit alone,
and wake up to the burning sun
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