Lost in the Dream

lost-in-the-dream

My boyfriends take life too seriously. All except
for the Drunk of course, but what drove me away
was not the drink but his opinions – which he clung to
like jewellery in his clenched and shaking fists.
My boyfriends are addicted to their distractions
and whenever I tell them they’re lost in the dream
they ignore me because I’m a chick. I wouldn’t care
except that pleasure is greater when shared
and although they can be sitting right beside me
they’re very rarely there. We’re in the midst
of a spiritual drought, which is to say the self-serving
egocentrics have got us completely surrounded.
Nowhere is this pervasive uniformity more visible
than on Tinder, where requests for a partner
in crime are combined with snapshots of generic guys
drinking and water-skiing and mountaineering
as if to say: I’m a free spirit! Yeah, right.
When I ponder the reasons why I’m single,
I blame myself. I’m too proud, too weird,
too obviously baggage-ridden; too difficult.
I feel bad for the ones who do make the effort
which is why I’m always the one to end it;
a mercy. Then it’s back yet again to the dating
game, alone with my own brain, staving off
craziness however I can, as I pace back and forth
in my poems and pray: give me a man who’s awake.

Note: the title is borrowed from the album ‘Lost in the Dream‘ by The War on Drugs. 

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