the stuff of dreams

these days my problems are marbles in my hand. that "bag full of god." i lay them on the wood floor in a line for the cat to chase. this really is the good stuff. the stuff of dreams. i just spoke to the man with the blinders on, and to think, i almost aligned my fate to his. the thought gives me chills. his horrible death in tiny little steps... only half alive and needing the small cuts to release the endorphines to smother the anguish of his bitter heart... i took a deep long breath and lay in the bath underneath water level. ears beneath. its there that god and the devil speak. and my giant rises up in front of my camera eye. a colossus. a love that terrifies. i kiss your face and fall into a crashing wave. rising up with sand in my teeth and salt in my eyes completely overtaken. this is the good stuff. the stuff of dreams. my mouth to your skin. a documentation. im breathing heat. im doused in sin. all of the contents of this whirlwind soul are enraptured by you. i offer up my darkest darks and my lightest lights... those other things that trouble my mind fall dead like autumn leaves crunching under our feet. ive chased you in dreams all of my life... to come to this. this shadowy, illusive, dark haired foreshadowing. you own me as ive always wanted to be owned. a pure passion. a white hot heat. a lifeline of illuminating light. this really is the good stuff. the stuff of dreams.  -Amy Rohr 2011.