How can I hate myself
When I smell the city in dusk
The green trees
Naive nobodies stuck in jams
I lay my feet to sleep
My ears clouded with music
I close my eyes and rivers ripple
Through my toes
Through my bones
My ribs are open in my dream

I keep speaking of dreams
But I cannot hate the reality
It’s cruel but it made me
And I cannot hate myself anymore
Without a reality, there’d be no dreams
No stories, no songs, no lore
I make peace with the real
Even if it’s not ideal

And the river flows.