Blessed Illusions

Living within blessed illusion, I
find my comfort in your arms,
your mouth,
every hole that I find.

I’m only slightly crazy, slightly
touched,
but in this world of naked make-
Believe,
you are the one felt,
and felt,
and felt,
by my flailing arms -
anchors searching for
dirt.

I try to combine
this fantasy with that
reality,
but they always refuse
to fit,
to connect in any meaningful
way that may sway me
to continue fighting.

But at least you are here
when the world drowns
me, water to lung,
death to life,
pain to numbness …

and in the end, blessed illusions are all that matter.

Feb. 20th, 2007

Written for and entered into "Invalid Item"  , using the prompt Blessed Illusions.