Why can't even I

I woke up from a dream last night
my hands holding each other between my tights
the noise of the radio in my back.

It was about when life was easy
but then we started to go nowhere fast
the voice of a generation high and loud
but so dull, empty and dry.

A lonely ghost accompains me all the time
is the cast of the imaginry lover whose face changes every six months filling up tabloids of 18 years back.

We sleep in my bed
Have breakfast time
Go on rides together
Holding hands and having a laugh
And kissing each other life everlasting romance.

From the third rib shall I create myself
and watching you sleep, until I get drunk of such beauty
A beauty and caring I will never have or get.

Because I can't even write a bloody awful song
Ad mourn over flesh
Slowly learning the fact
Unloveable the music sang

I woke up from a dream last night
my hands holding each other between my tights
the noise of the radio in my back.

Saying stop moruning
shut up and
die.

Reviews

[Crowley]

The fifth stanza is brilliant, the rest of the poem is amazing but that one stands out to me. If there was a perfect lover in times of desire anyway, then it might be the self, we just can't hang out all the time...lol. This had a forboding and sexy quality to it, two things that go well together. Nice job.