Freudian Slip

i’m sorry

about the things i say in my sleep 

when i’m weaving in between 

rows of scratchy, angry cattails 

lurking in the water 

or when i’m lapping up the sky 

with a gleaming metal spoon 

i promise you 

that the words are empty 

with no meaning 

beyond silly little murmurs 

while i am dreaming 

i promise, i promise 

they have no meaning 

with the exception

of the ones that say

i am leaving. 

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