rebellion

the blue dust. the night. before the night. the cinema of water. over water. over water.

I can tell already you think I’m the dragon,                   that would be so like me, but I’m not. I’m not the dragon. I’m not the princess either.                                 Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure,               I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow           glass, but that comes later.                                                           And the part where I push you flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks,               shut up I’m getting to it.                                      For a while I thought I was the dragon. I guess I can tell you that now. And, for a while, I thought I was                                                                                                        the princess, cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle,           young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you with confidence           but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess, while I’m out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire,                                                                       and getting stabbed to death.                                         Okay, so I’m the dragon. Bid deal.           You still get to be the hero.