Aug 15, 2007
inspired by lucid dreamer/poetess: soulless
He walks each day
from his dreams to hers
he really has no other choice-
fearful of the scenes
he might find her in, not knowing,
if tonight he would lose her
to ghosts that plague
her subconscious.
(Tonight she dreams
of her corpse hanging from
the acacia trees, time sobbing
from beneath the branches)
Perhaps it is out of these dreams
that our own ghosts walk amongst us
and listen to us sleep-talk, those
unguarded utterances woven from
sinew strands of lives that must take shape
despite the fact that we see them
waving at us and we
never wave back.
Labels: dreams, philosophy, poetry
