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