Story of the seagul

I wrote this about a dream I had, so to whomever reads this I hope you enjoy it.

The streets are all dead; the pavement no longer sings the song that made it's life all that much more worth living; it just sounds like running water against a metal sink, so mundane and yet so rabid in it's actions. oh seagull, for now I'll let you take my breath away. I'll let you tell me the lie that you sell to same streets that you steal for from the sea the night before. The seagull's mother looks at me and says "it makes the days go by and makes the nights seem less long; but the blackness I carry on my feeble back makes me out to be more of a vulture than I actually am."
I opened my mouth and so did she, and the funeral procession that was going on down here gullet reminded me of the conflict I have with the daytime. The look on her face was of deep disappointment. She looks at my tired and weary eyes and tells me that whether it be love or whether it be death or whether it be loneliness. Whatever morbid monstrosity that my God wishes to bestow upon my life; my lungs will pump the same static breath. She's asks about my irregular cardiac cycle; I reply to her "As regards to my heart, it beats due to its lack of passion for any satisfaction of any life or loss, and it doesn't break from lack of love...oh no, it breaks because of thieves like you wanting to claim it for yourself, who have less passion that I do! so I'll wait here just as long as you , until that light in the sky ends and when I'm graced again by my mother and maker"
Her daughter flies away after my most recent diastole. Oh I did love her, but my love was like the love of a wolf; no one really seems to understand it, or appreciate it but at the end of systole love is love, and it's not easily come by. I grasped the seagull's mother with my hand and whispered; "I'll find your daughter and I'll give her a name that everyone in this fucking sea will know by the time I'm done with her. I'll make sure that every sailor is praying before they sleep so that they can see the winged harlot that your beloved daughter really is".
Once again, the disappointment hung from her face like the Sun in the evenings when I look out from out my window. She tries to reply but I know what she felt, and all she left me with was "we're all dead, everyone around us is dead your eyes are too weak to see it and maybe you should just stop thinking about the heart that beats and breaks within your ribcage and maybe look after the heart that was trusted to you by another; oh I've seen enough here I've travelled this shore many times and I have never seen such penitent as I see in you. Pick yourself up, out of the hole you've dug for yourself because if you want to die like an outlawed beast in it's cave then you're going the right away about it."
With the coming of the night It was time I slept and considered what I had felt, this cave is no longer my protection, only my solitude; and in my solitude I have my peace with the medium between sleep and of death.