Hell, I've dreamed of you.
You were sitting rocking in a rocking chair while I shook spiders from my shoe, telling me slowly of important things with care I wished was care-free.
Wishing is different than hope.
You had a system you weren't trying to teach me I wanted to learn and confirmed I could do like you with your waiting just when the water filled to strike assured the side of the washing-machine and close in the snake.
When I tried the snake curved more and biting quick bent more than I anticipated, thin wide triangle teeth ripping without tearing my hands, again and again.
You were god distorted by the imbedded memory of the god the humanist drunk made for his utopia