Baptism (poem)

as of late
the world seems nothing more
than a waking nightmare
in which words whisper
scarlet gashed mouths,
stain their insults upon my psyche
a sanguine ablution,
welling in the intimacy of my palm

....last night I had a dream where you are mine
born again from the water
a foam fresh aphrodite
i gazed upon everything i ever thought could be
desired dreamt destinies that
slipped through my fingertips as easily as
the last time i held your hand
a hand now stained
marked

dust i am now
dust shall i return
baptized with fear
of losing you