Fever Dreams

Like a daydream of red and black, I see two faces in your smile. Ineptitude reigns in this arena for the faint-hearted. We traverse this tiny land- Going from one trap on to the next. As if waking from some nightmare, I see my life shredded like flesh beneath scalpel. Picking up pieces that cannot be put back, we bend to pick them just the same. Like soldiers marching on to some great battle, word has not yet reached, the war’s been lost. Take with you a piece of cloth torn, as if remembrance would keep your life intact. But dreams forsaken are just that; And that is nothing to be retrieved. Broken spirits and hair in your eyes, those curls always tell the same story. A lullaby for the babes held swathed, and danced to and fro. In red and black we drape our walls; Dare not let the moon light shine in. Beams that char your flesh and burn your swollen eyes. Encouraging decomposition as stagnation has since set in. How many faces do you see in my eyes, how many fates are entertained? We dream in sacred rooms, we expire only in public forums. Tears I lent to you are left to spoil, when not fresh there is no impact. Just like the black conceals our blood. Fever dreams are our lives, our lives are but fever dreams.