Who Can Survive The Dreams



For weeks now, they come
Images created by imagination or premonition,
its unknown

Fear wreaks havoc in the night
as spirits unable to calm
Icy breathe claws the skin
and paralysis pins down the strongest

For weeks now, sleep evades
Completely unattainable as madness settles
only till the safety of the sun light wraps its protection
And then it’s all too late

Responsibility grabs hold
forcing the prelude of repose until the sun settles once again
What to do?
Confusion takes notice at times instead placing emphasis on
spells that should be spent directed on treasures of the heart
Not of illusions what forever veils happiness

Consumable fragments that never satiate
yet, always interrupt life’s day to day commissions
Overt emissions persists
I’m afraid!
What derives from imagination thereafter?


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