i am a light sleeper                                              
    who wakes before my alarm
but  i have my own personal Witching Hour
a gape                                                    
    when­ I am utterly unguarded      
        and vulnerable  to serpent enemies

it's then that they broach and whisper me suggestion
it's then that i whimper like an abused and receptive whelp
then that i devolve into a manipulatable child of therapy
it's then that weights are stacked upon my chest      
    and my breaths become short  pinned  and pained

even with my wife and child to my side                            
they patiently poison me  with measured pipette drops
run them down a string like spittle
bitter mushroom down the back of my throat                  
and dreams warp toxic like cellophane near a fire
and what visions !
warrens of vivid insecurities as loved ones                        
strip their gloves  and get to work ripping out the pegs
with twisted mocks  tocking noggins              
         and flails of humiliation oiling apart
               the mechanism of my meaning

they look at their watches   time is up
they leave with their instruments      
make idle chit-chat on their way out
lock the front door with the spare key
and place the key back under the mat

Your thoughts & dreams, guide you through, this life’s stay,
They can change with decisions and opportunities, in many ways,
   Some can bring you comfort, as if a companion, on a lonely day, Visions, take time, something you do now must fade.
You can create many excuses, convince your self to hold and stay,
Or you can take the dream,  decide, what in your life, to set aside.
Do you need the change or you more afraid of a tear, in your eye,
Answer is inside of you, the  way to know, a positive attitude, try,
Some dreams, you have in this life, you wish they would come true,
A question  how to create them, where to start, what is there to do,
Will it be the right path,  a positive direction, only you can choose.




The original: Tom Maxwell  © 5/22/2025 AD

i am attached to my past in a spiritual manner
i gather and gather but never get better
books flooding my head
words meant to mend
the intricacies of my fringed best chasing beautiful butterflies by the river bent
do you see the same visions?
do you see the same distance?
you seem closer in my head
do you deem me different?
do you dream of someone else instead?
let me know, to let me grow
unfold and grow again
let me know, to sow again
harvest and make amends

Dancing on the edge of a shining star she appears.
I move through darkness towards her,
 reaching out into the void, 
to touch her, 
to reach the unreachable. 

Fingertips play upon shadows where she used to be.

(As she dances)

Words reverberate back into my own ears, 

Did she hear?

Unclear.

 Visions of her blue eyes fill my mind.
Did she see?

I thought she smiled at me.

I awake to find it all a dream.
But I remember,
I can plainly see,

Her dancing away from me.
Dancing away,

Towards a star.