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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1204926
The power of dreams
Dissolved Surrealism

When I awoke this morning,
Sleep hung heavy upon my shoulders.
Pain and joy and rage and love
Rested in the chains of surreality I was bound in.
Such emotion and torment!
I was stirred into a melting pot
Of memories, dying in deep pools of
Déjà vu dreams.
I half woke, the beauty of the dreams
Still evanescing softly, indecipherably, from my
Pallid lips. My eyelids peeled back to receive the
Grey morning, and observe lucidity’s flimsiness.

Faintly, but increasingly, my senses opened.
I felt the rain cascading outside, each
Droplet roaring with
Aquatic wrath, pounding and sizzling
Against my eardrums. It was water that
Liberated me from the scorpion sting
Of those dreams, heavy and confining.
I fought against the bittersweet clutch,
Images that I both hated and loved,
Knew I had to turn away
But couldn’t. my eyelids fluttered, lifted and dropped,
Then opened wide with relief, as I saw reality.


It was at that exact moment,
When a single view of the ceiling, complete with cracks,
Saved me from that venomous pit
Deep in my subconscious mind.
In my dreams there was too much
Beauty, and such an excessive
Quantity of longing that I felt
As if my heart had shattered like a glass ball.
It was too thick, unbearable, agonizing.
And I never knew that beauty is the sharpest
Knife, that it cuts like broken glass.
© Copyright 2007 The.Midnight.Metaller (midnight_poet at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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