Leaving my world of undreamed subtleties,
I am left trying to authenticate
My life. Sometimes in my dreams gentle breeze
Flutters across my nightmares and abates
There is a tepid dissipation then,
A dissipation of dreams I wanted
to be true. Thrust into the daily ken.
I pick up my pen again and bleed a
In the corner of my room it’s just dark
Enough, lit by the footlights of my soul
And not by the floodlights of those who judge.
Putting words to paper is a blessing.
a blessed experience.
And I am cursed