A poem based on a fever dream.
You must shut your eyes to dream,
Shut them good, we’re about to enter
a construct similar to a biological movie theater,
they’ll be airing pieces that will break
a mind a thousand times.
I saw old friends and people long gone,
some stuck their knives in me,
while the others danced in women’s underwear
over broken glass in empty rooms,
smoking long cigarettes.
In my dreams it doesn’t matter if I’m weak,
or confident, as one thing is sure,
I will wade in the waters
from the blood in my very own veins.
In my dreams I’m never tethered,
Though I am trapped
I am also lucidly free to roam
down on all fours,
and. I see myself in you and I spit:
A grown man grovelling on the ground,
doesn’t make for a pretty sight no how.
And I remember I used to be so tall,
so amused –feeling like I had nothing to lose.
But still in my dream I am a complete unknown
to your goodnight kisses,
your enamored whispers.
And I walk alone the darkened bus lanes,
again –and again.
I am awake.