These are the dreams from which I ought to awaken

In the deep fissures a tide of blood,
Seizures of colour in canvassed eye,
These are the dreams I bring to life

Even the sky of this city is glass
I shine in shards, glitter cracks under my feet
These are the dreams of the world in which I lived

I bang doors, topple drawers, rooms fill with paper
My mind is ABC soup, I despair at the scatter
These are the dreams that I created

Rain falls, black coal on leaves,
The circle of bark crackles, the shouts of trees
These are the dreams from which I ought to awaken

Skin lines blur into watery mud-brown,
Crown of wave and blanket of trough
These are the dreams I keep drifting down

In the city across the river there is a reflection of me
Stringing together words and other pretty things
These are the dreams of my soul deep and free

Spider web of sweat on my pillowcase
Yesterday’s self peeling from my paper-thin skin
These are the dreams from which I cannot awaken

Every memory a fire, river burns with blood weight
Angel wings tinged with Monet’s pink, sky breaking bread
These are the dreams which are already gone away

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