Sleepwalking the Wake
Morpheus was tired of daydreaming
Fantasy had worn him weary and mute
Thanatos called for prolonged epitaph
A prologue to silent slumber in reprieve
Flirtatious dread bore heavily upon
Threadbare dents in Freud’s couch
No master in his own house any more
Abandoned royal road to consciousness
He walked on the roof built without base
Caressed impressed by depressive delusion
Orpheus sailed in an uppermost underworld
Chimera balanced nightmares and illusion
As he marched the tightrope to applause
Of a well-wishing crowd in macabre solitude
His hands on the mental wheelchair of demise
It dawned that he had not been sleepwalking
After all traipsed on the promising promenade
Fell into nothingness and fondled his loss
19th July 2018
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