Your lullabies do not impress me,
nor the handsome slide of your charismatic smile.
For a dream's a dream and all you shall be to me.
Something bittersweet, distasteful.
Your stinging, sour words slip in my mouth, heaping in ooze on my page.
How you anger/inspire me,
from the gleam of your regal eyes
and tumbling feathers of a rook's intimidating stance.
You are the invisible, imaginary; much argued Phantasm of my waking fantasies.
Help me sprout my wings.