Wish on Crickets

Futility of dreaming and yet I still do it. All the time.

Jiminy Cricket is sitting on my bed

Erect, good posture, Mr. Cricket sir

Something I can admire

Seeing as I am curled up trying to avoid getting near

His contagious hope

His festering dreams

Of magical days

Where wood can become man

Bull s**t

Of blue fairies granting the wishes

Of those that deserve

Bull s**t.

Those that desire

The richness of dreams

The creaminess of hope

End up curled in bed

WIth Jiminy Cricket

Haunting them

Tauthing them
To dream once more

Then to languish

 

At the failure.