Confusion in Underground Clouds

The Unaware

Disbelieve in me. 

I am myself, vapid, 

a constant vapor.

I reach for you constantly. 

I know what you think sometimes, I think; I'm not pretty, 

challenged stylistically. 

A twisted myth, contorted god. 

Strewn, unrolled on clay like sod.

You looked for the green leaves, but got brown rusted blades. 

I speak to you, but you don't listen, you can't hear, or remember. 

I gawk and fawn, I think of you constantly. 

I believe in you. 

You are yourself, existing. 

Soft flesh that rolls off my mind, 

my tongue. 

I speak your name and feel the condensation ripple down my spine

as I lay awake at night, while you sleep;

dreamless while I dream, 

of you. 

Hoping and praying that one day, I will exist too.