the dream queens parade though my mind unabashed. they know i am damaged goods, somedays almost clueless. they are proud of me. i am a portrait of their finest work.

my nerves sit on top of my skin. some scream as the breeze cuts them like a knife. the ones closer to my heart sit and stare at blank walls. scar covered, wormtrails of pain burnt in by tears. dazed and unbelieving, they feel litttle and understand less every day.

the dream queens drag me through photoplays of my past, daring me to get up and change the channel. inside a small message of hope is beaten to death. ‘turn the damn thing off’ rises on it’s last breath. don’t be ridiculous. this is my life, i built it, there’s no way out. i am the perfect student. defeated without a try.

one day i turned over and woke with the sun on my face instead of facing the wall.

i had forgotten to draw the blinds and close the curtains. the window was closed. no breeze, just a womb of warm bright light.

the dream queens became transparent, then invisible. the icy clutch of their fingers around my life disolved. sitting transfixed i waited until night convinced of their reappearance.

nothing!,. the silver moonlight held me in it’s beam. like an amateur on opening night, i began to act alive and received a standing ovation. tomorrow i will try again, in makeup and full wardrobe.

who knows? i may begin to believe i really am