Last night my

symbiote showed me

a soft summer kiss

in a foreign island

dream.

 

A blue eyed english girl,

mushroom picking,

legs entwined

and shrugless.

 

It showed me

the slowing world

of my other

 

self.

 

I am not one.

We are many, yet

too few to name.

 

As I remember this, it

must recall

what I fail to receive

 

in dreams,

in another place

where I am full.