Californian diary, entry #3

I was pulled by an undertow of thoughts and
the hammer of sudden perception away
from your loaded bed, rolled under screams
of pouring skies

Be not afraid when you wake to my empty pillow
California, I was but a disappointing insomniac
dream between sunrises pushed into the creases
of your sheets

Leave me be in this night monsoon to sew closed the
chest I opened to you, to make sense of the madness
that drove me to your shores
leave me be the mirage impression I left on
your sands

I was the flash of light you would not accept
in the corner of your dark circus filled with
straight razor neon gas-station smiles,
the cocked gun Russian-roulette act hiding
between meth kitchen suburbia nightmare

California you welcomed my brown skin laid
against gold leaf promises of love, though you
did not show me your needle scarred femoral vein
mad-hatters, the broken veterans swept
under the pavement carpet of quaint
tourist streets, the millionaire street sweeper

Forget this disappointing anchor once dropped
from afar to counterbalance your swinging
trapeze mind California, we were but
disappointing insomniac dreams between
sunrises that never quite met in the centre

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