Clothe In Dreams (Rev.)

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My sachet of sadness burst tonight
while washing dishes, I cried about
what keeps me awake: within three
months a performance assessment

Scared of my inability to become an
expert, use correct terms rationally;
I prefer to sing and dance joyfully,
spasm when forced to contemplate

Ice-cold words strung in rasping lines
sandpapering my mind into bleeding
barbed-wire thoughts, every time a
sentence starts to sing it is wrong

Correct terms destroy possible rhythm
no emotional content to bring comfort
only headache and pain accompany me
on the dark, slow Via Dolorosa

I must learn rules, apply them consistently,
work briskly like a machine in the clang of
threatening ideas, boring repetitions,
ignore my heartfelt feelings

Act as if my shortcomings do not lead to
self-contempt, anguish and despair in
acronyms that refuse to sing – tonight
I cry for what I have to conquer

Tomorrow I shall be strong again,
take refuge in books and fairytales,
clothe my rebellious spirit
in dreams…
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