Oneirism

I often lose myself Amidst webs Of weens and oneirisms. I've built there A diminutive colossus, Of my little big imaginations. There, even the driest martini Moistens my parched saliva, And soothes my soul. And the sounds of silence deafens The chaos within, Which otherwise makes my heart thole. Uncontested race with, Unknown identities and, Known strangers becomes easy to win. With noticeable absence, And quiet presence, Of childish reluctance makes no sin. There, cremated births, Living dead and suicide victims Are found missing. For oneirism it is, Where life can go on even, With a small honey wrapped kissing. ~Nayanika Dey ©1942016