So here I am again,
in the cross hairs of indecision.
To stay here would be my death,
to come back, my suicide.
I live and die there,
in my sleep.
And every day I resurrect myself,
A new man with the same dreams.
And you’re always in them.
A life and death of your own.
But you always stay, and I always come home.
That’s your home now.
And there you live,
a vague watercolor face in my sleep.
I can’t continue these cloudy inaugurations,
These lucid beginnings, Ambiguous endings.
We can’t keep meeting like this.
You aren’t welcome there anymore.
I’m sure I’ll see you again,
But for now,
I need to sleep on my own.