Please be pleased, please?

I don't want these daydreams anymore. Sweet, twisted, carnal, lethal, hopeless, hopeful, lucid, possible, remarkable. Everything that I wish could happen is beginning to take over. But none of it is really here. And I wait still. Til everything around me disappears. In a tree, through a window, in your room, talking about birds. Come tomorrow to my window. That's what it meant. One day. If what picturing somethin makes it so, I picture that we'll be tender.