Poem #16: Sometimes, I Write Poetry

I.

I’ve had dreams about falling
But oddly enough, when the blacktop rushes towards me
I open my eyes and hit the ground.

II.

I get sick backwards,
Or so I’ve been told because to me,
There is no other way, like
To the colorblind, there is no red and green,
Like to a child,
There is no love or hate.

III.

I create characters from dreams,
Half baked ideas I should have thrown out,
Moldering in my brain
Bringing me the insanity.

They have lives and names that I will forget,
They have loves and fears I do not know,
And they know me, trust me,
Do not cry when I kill them.

Do not leave when I need them
Do not exist.

IV.

Sometimes I dream that I am flying
And as I lift off of the ground, the world brightens
Because finally, I am free
And the green of the grass below is no longer a prison,
The hum of the wind is a soundtrack,
The trees lift me up.

V.

Today I did nothing
But think about writing this
And forget why.

VI.

I wonder if a man name Melvin
Would ever fall in love with a girl named Myra,
And if they would have four children,
Naming each one after a brand of cigarette
And leaving them in the park
To sit and burn out.

VII.

Sometimes I dream that I hit the ground,
Roll over, and stand up.
I walk away through the bodies of raindrops
Known as your tears.


***
Section III still seems somewhat off to me, but I figured I'd just post this as is, since I don't generally like to mess with my work after it's been done for awhile because I've usually forgotten what inspired it.