My dreams have turned dark and vivid
Sweet bile rising against my throat
Saturation so rich it makes my brain itch
Darker than it should be
Even the light is only a gaudy imitation
There is far too much colour
Not enough life
It strangles and struggles and kills
While panic and loathing follow
Dreams are meant to be bright
Not always good or pure or nice
But they aren't the world
They float above like afterlife
Even nightmares make us feel alive
Fear suspended in a safe place
These are not dreams
These are not dreams
These are not dreams
Something has taken my mind
Using it for some foul purpose
These are not dreams
No comments:
Post a Comment