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Dream Reaper

I am not lonely.
How could I be, when inside my Dreams I am flying.

I was mobile with a former student of mine(Barbara), and we were on a walking journey through Central Italy.
I was happy.
She was not (Weeping over a boy in a public bathroom as I sat in an
Internet Cafe alone).

The details of this unconscious ambition is so magnificent, I want to keep all the hope and desire to myself.

Instead, I opened my eyes to burning red numbers.
My escape was over.
Reality melancholy reaching in under the Jacquard Comforter, pressing down on my soul, reminding me happiness only comes in visions of waking departure.

My dream reaper kissed my forehead and disappeared beneath torpidities wings.
My sadness clings to his last breath, as I anticipate his return. .


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