Last night, I wandered in a dream;
I wandered through a house of rooms.
I looked for you; you were not there;
I looked and looked–looked everywhere.

Some people sat in a living room.
“He isn’t here; he’s dead, you see,”
they tried to tell me. But I went on,
“But I just saw him--it’s not been long!

From room to room, I opened doors,
but they were empty, every one.
Could it be their words were true?
In the hall I screamed–”WHERE ARE YOU?”

I woke up–you still aren’t here.
The grim truth, I’ve tried to keep at bay.
And my guardian angel–where is he?
I need him near me; did he flee?

Then I saw that someone said:
“There was someone we once knew, who’s dead.
Your angel would not believe ‘twas true.
We saw him screaming, “WHERE ARE YOU?””

Who are you? My angel?
Or just another tortured soul.
We share so many wounds within–
not my guardian; you’re my twin.

when not the monsters under my bed
Make me have sleeples nights
But my own mind
Making me have a hard time

Forcing me to rhyme
And is torturing me in my own mind

Wishing upon my downfall
While making me cry
With the long ago scense
From my previous life

But who is it
that torments me in those lonely night?
Is it the night
who wakes me up
Or is it me,
who won't let my running thoughts cry?

Cleanse me from
the dust of
the night, and
the apocalyptic
visions of my
slumber.
Fish guts, ****, or
insomnia may have
conjured these rotting
skin nightmares,
these mosquitoes from
hell.
I struggled to wake up,
but couldn't, and finally,
while I was flying in
a gray land of desolation,
and killers,
of nighthawks and harpies.
I soared through a
hazy wasteland, and arrived
safely back home
in my serene, August Sabbath.

I have a recurring dream
Settle down
I'll set the scene

An old house I'm renovating
Quite large with many rooms

Outside the garden needs tending
A fishpond with murky water
Broken statue
Needs mending

There's a feeling of foreboding
I try to ignore this
Concentrate on the work
One day it will be
A fine holding

There's a cupboard that's hard to find
You can climb right inside
To a shaft leading down
A
Long
Way
Down
Once you reach the bottom
There's a tunnel
That goes straight ahead
Taking a walk down
I start to forget
It's small things to start
But the further I go
More is forgotten
I'm compelled to carry on
But where do I stop?
Until I've forgotten who I am?
Until I've forgotten how to turn back!
How far can I push forward?
Each time
I try to go
Another step
Forward
Then
One
Last
Thought
Is
Left
TURNAROUND

Each step back
Brings a memory back
It's at this point
I awake

Every time I return
The renovation
Has progressed
Fish now swim
In clear water of the pond

The feeling of foreboding
Is lessening
Birds outside
Now singing

But
That cupboard is still
Hard to find
I know
If of the mind
Could find
And one more time......

In a wicked twilight- I had dreamt a suicidal dream, roaming
around deserted lands; screaming within. As every tear drop
was just a dew drop watering the lands; I once envisioned
as a blank page of life- those colours drained away.

My smile is covered in the ink of a tear; as I wondered if I
could catch them running quick- flowing to the pavement by
every blink. Soon after the rain-washed the days, everything I
once seen, became so, so, so bleak.

I caved into the arms of someone- her flush pink cheeks
injected the clouds with their colours, that you could pick
apart. Sealing the pit of despair in a glass jar, stealing from
time a lingering kiss, to scatter wide and far.

Hoping that this time, this time I won’t find comfort in
an element that burns in time's fire. Scorching my soul to
the ends of longing to meet death again.

            Till I realized, I wasn’t dreaming at all.

Whirling vortex; -
I stalked a dream so smooth-tongued,
every whisper of it, had an attention to its
words- intentions to look so divine.

And for a fleeting choice of the moment,
I faintly enjoyed the lie.