honey is sweet sweet poison

dreams are for reading, for diving into like cold icy waters and fishing around in...sweet dreams are made of this...of a car on the freeway blowing south...trailing clothes and responsibility like exhaust...once i sat at this machine and was a golden child, people walked beside me and waited for the next amazing insight or terrible wonder to appear, i gave birth to them like a tireless branch gives birth to grapes and they rolled forth, fat juicy babies ripe and bursting with promises and water...

it's been a decade almost and i know you follow me like rabid bees because you can smell my fear...