I'm lying in the grass, in a soccer goal. I have arrived, I am victory. The goal net has holes in it, I mean, extra holes- the plastic rope has frayed and split off in parts, leaving large, unorganized, unplanned holes. Ones that might let something unexpected, uninvited in,or out. In some places it is haphazardly knotted back together, here a corner where seven sections all gave in together and have been tied together at a single point. There, it is like a wheel and not a series of wavering squares like the rest.
I'm lying in this holy goal, a giant dreamcatcher, a great fishnet. Waiting for a dream fish, waiting for answers. I'm lying here, I'm lying to myself. I don't know what I want, I keep slipping in and out of certainty. I fake the feeling of deserving this bliss, I am not submerged in it, I am not equal to it. I am lying about what I want, I don't want sex,I don't want drugs. I'm just like everybody else, I only want love, to love and to be loved.