Wasteland of Dreams
There at the back
of my mind like an elusive form…
Out of focus a blur in my inner reality
never dreamt in nightmares
waiting to be born.
It evades my light
from my thoughts, from my inner sight…
It scratches at the edge of my spine,
a coming doom, a world-ending revelation,
that haunts my waking life.
Dreams like nightmares still born
in the afterbirth of my fears.
Unknown or unfelt but linger on,
Haunting my consecrated grounds…
like images in a flash of light,
high on psychoactive compounds.
But all in memory or in my deepest illusions…
Dwell, these shells of ghosts in my history,
in my vision, in my being, my foundation of soul.
There it sites staring back at me, daring me
its eyes, like lost visions…
Can’t focus or remember anything.
Only twin points of crimson fire reeking
smoke from sanity…
drifts through my mind…
mingles with my waking realities.
Each a different page
in a book I try to read.
It lingers like a stifling aroma!
Of some unknown embryonic blooms
I scratch the thing
at the back of my mind,
its shimmers a black Aura…
and I scream inwardly to stifle the fears,
That linger like wraiths from dying nightmares.
It haunts my waking world
it colors my thoughts my feelings.
I can’t place a finger upon this pulse,
the unknown something
That may come or something has begun
and can not be understood
or undone…
As doom hangs in the corner of my inner mind
like suits eaten by moths of memories
skins of dead beings,
things or people
linger like shadows upon my soul.
Wreckage from a lost world.
No matter how hard l try
I can’t deviate I can only lie
awake at night
and read to drift back in
to the wastelands of dreams…
Copyright © Poet Tellaferro | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment