fantaseyes; a poem

I am a fickle flighty thing,

No love for gold or shiny rings,

Sun then rain like autumn days,

Heart of a joy then black malaise.

Restless baby won’t lie down,

Not so pretty with that frown,

If only Mama really knew,

Why baby’s soul is black and blue.

I do not long for wads of cash,

Nor some storied house in which to stash

My aching bones, my heavy legs,

My heart for more ephemeral begs.

Baby, baby, settle down,

What you want cannot be found,

What you seek is far from real,

No bright prize to horde or steal.

I am a girl of shadow dreams,

Of fantasies spooled on reams,

It’s called maladaptive daydreaming,

A tidy phrase for such a thing.

Reality has always been,

A little sad, a little mean,

Better to escape, you see,

Into a world where dreams are free.

Dream girl lives in Paris, France,

Dream girl loves to kiss, to dance,

Dream girl wears band tees and silk,

Dream girl’s skin is smooth as milk.

Perfect girl, so far from me,

Slick with unreality,

What joy to get lost in your world,

When my own spine with sadness curls.

Perfect friends and perfect body,

She’s slim and cool and far from gaudy,

If only baby had been rocked,

In a crib of fantasies own stock.

Baby, baby, don’t you cry,

Dream girl’s life is just a lie,

A portrait hung is only right,

When the subject hides not from their light.

Unveil then your heavy legs,

Your pallid skin, your coffee dregs,

Let dream girl rest in her dream land,

It’s time to take life by the hand.