Poem-A-Day: Day 36

Dream Warrior

try as I might,
there was no more fight left
     in me.
and while I touched the stars
on cloudy days,
reaching up past streetlights
and broken wishbone collars,
I still have yet to make sense
     of me.
sadly I’m mistaken
often, for other people,
     for myself,
or just in general.
dangling wild-eyed
and phantasmagorically
over the cliffs
     of my
own self pity, doubt,
seemingly endless shadows stalking
every step I take.

I suppose I wouldn’t trade
the horrors
     in my
nightmares
for the best Scotch in town,
but I would trade the angels
     in my
daydreams
for the chance to dream
     of you.