paul

“I had a dream which was not all a dream” Darkness by Lord Byron



Dreamed



A breeze rattled down my spine

Into my mouth and bothered my thoughts

I fell in comfort and dreamed

Of women, but fear misled me into

Terrifying sights anguish

Chasing

A whole lot of chasing

Form who?

I seem terrified

Want to run escape this madness

But not yet

My body stiffens

My legs like blocks of cement

My hands as well

Dysfunctional

Abruptly I float

Tilting from left to right

In motion

Shapes of familiarity

Vague sights of childhood memories

I cry tears burns my skin

I fly in

In need of air

Suffocating

Irrational shit but no time for reason

Shapeless shadows haunt me

Evil seeks me

It’s dark very dark

No shed of light

Such empty space

Inhabited by fear and cruelness

Frightened yet invincible I shine

Like a luminous sword

That wears the color of red

The colour of pride

The colour of victory

This is my world.





Witnesses



The plant in the winter cold:

No sun to nourish

Leafs drying

Its shape deforming

Crawling into nothingness



The dog tired its head resting on his hands:

Disabled from the rain

Comforted by rest

Eyes monitoring the scene

Its ears alert

A whimper



An old man wandering lonely:

No place to go

No worries in hand

Warm under that thick scarf

Bones hurting upon every move

As he nears the end

Wishes he were younger



Water swarms the rocks in madness:

Lively and full of anger

Has been for some time now

Trapped in a ditch

In vain it curses the gods

And lays low staring at the reddened skies



Screams of insanity echo through the never-ending narrow hall:

So loud so high they seem to never fade

They haunt those who seek

But the hall is so deep and abstruse that they vanish in the darkness

No one seems to notice

Nothing to welcome this presence

It turns to dust



Light breaks though the shattered window:

It intrudes without warning

Only to discover the bloodshed

The stains deep into fabric

The stench, here in the mourned land

Relics in despair



The wounded tiger rests on the smooth wet grass:

Revenge circulating his mind he softly blinks twice

A breeze circulates

Shuffling though his fury skin

it soothes him