the little voice.

i sat and thought and thought and thought
that my dreams were wasted fancies
and i cursed and sighed and moaned and groaned
for the laziness that has become me.

i dreamt a dream that dreamers dreamt
and wished and wished and wished
that my urgency to lie next to you
would like the thunder vanish.

how can how comes howling moons
and red rain forest rivers
i hoped and hoped and hoped hope would
deliver me from this shiver.

so i laid my thoughts across this bread
reflected in the crimson sky
digested the dream of butterfly schemes
and began to live a lie.