Crossing Streets

Crisscrossing streets in a city landscape a place where the mind panics wanting to be found or to find, or not be lost within. Every doorway is well lit yet barred and locked. This is my dream body, it is chasing its twilit shadow down blind alleyways pausing only to heave breathlessly as it comes to a stop in yet another walled-off cul-de-sac. Daylight couples slyly with moonlight, it forms a vaporous union that creeps under my skin, I am two hands and a mouth (not my own yet) scratching upon a lid of fear. Why record such fantasies? Why relive the minor horrors, the needling angst of subconscious ghost trains - images that fly through darkling places. Perhaps only to share an illusive puzzle-picture to reach into other sequestered minds that just may experience the same other-worldly hinterland and there know we are crisscrossing the same unidentifiable cityscape.