Dreams of doubt.

I am that fat ugly spanish man craving blushes from an innocent child
The scolding heat of a portrait painting hidden amongst the loft
And through Ann Frank tears of fear and diarised misery realised it doesn't need to smile or make sense
No brain matter how many times I kept you encompassed and smiling and gay and enticing
This cerebral willow tree dancing in a brace land obscured by branches managed by a retailed dragon
The aftermath of a mushroom cloud balancing on this aged wrinkled back
Telling tales of a wardrobe winter and the shit of an impotent ball sack.

The vile of red wine lubricating a million dollar throst pointing purple sky to attract a mate
I'm the peacock of passion with the ruffled cravat of tear drop clown balloon animal carved
Starved. Of a fish supper in a ghost town harbour in a north eastern town by the sea
An intervention within a tapestry
I'm beginning to stitch Harold eye displayed for the world of history to see

You make me feel like the nipple hugging back rub shrouding aloud and pretentious hiding
Go find and go seek amongst Victorian ladies and gentlemen blinding
Into a wonderment
A bedazzled
The crazy path of a drunken slug heading into a star driven world of global expansion

A poem
It might not make a sense of difference to you but it means the terracotta world of soldiers to me
And like a lazy doing nothing of a salmon swimming upwards to its bereft breeding death
It the lord of its manor amongst the waterfall
It's freedom it's condescending aptness of breath
Gulping air and sand and sea and salt
Amongst my subconscious these dreams of doubt.