dream 10

Black curtains droop
as only black curtains do
we drink to forget about the air. its stagnancy
our own—ought to continue confusing affection with affliction if we want this to work out.
if i were a man i would probably take up a whore, but instead
my closest friends know the things I mutter in my sleep
Not a shame, not a dip too painful or deep
You were promises and hope and I am drunk,
awake, you shot my leg
the house we robbed glistened in pills
no, the house we were protecting was dressed in dollar bills
black clothes and rubber gloves
you were supposed to shoot the door handle
my therapist says I wreak of betrayal and that everyone in my dreams is me
five times out of nine I'm polite enough to agree