can somebody give me a glass of wine?

dreaming, i'm me, i perfectly now how to believe in what i love to belive.
not dreaming, i take the right decisions, living in a distressful world, but real and predicted, unbearably rational.
dreaming, i'm made of flavors, melodies and desires that push each other, sighs and bitter peace.
not dreaming, i'm made of papper, glass and metal.
dreaming, i'm happy, not dreaming i'm somebody who sees the world function. full stop.

she's sitting in a couch full of peach leaves and worn colors. perfectly centered - old trick.
she waits for nothing.
her heart's full of nothing.
once in a while, the wind brings melodies to fill it, once in a while.
brings flavoured teas and cakes.
she tells herself so many lies. there are no right choices for her.
wind brings hope while bringing lies.
wind brings dances and hands.
one comes and lights up a cigarette, sings with a scratching voice, and looks her in the eyes, tenderly.
she sitts down again. once in a while she tells a secret.
one comes and tells a poem, nice perfum, clean shoes and charming voice.
she smiles and sitts down.
one comes and paints a drawing, pretty lips and odd moves, her name sounds fanciful.
she passes her hand through the couch, slowly.
one comes, one comes, one comes. once in a while.
she always ends up sitting in her couch, staring at the movie she had created.
once in a while she believes. once in a while she cleans the tape and sees the truth. once in a while.