When is a dream not reality?
A setted carving,
Written by privation
Words that leak through unfilled ink
Gawping empty between ridges.
Then those canyon cliffs retreat again
Back down to their weary plains
Brothers undo brothers, as
All plains worn away.
And those letters of privation
Are gone, as empty were their valley hollows
Their hollow fame ungained.
Vectors collide head into head, their
Perpendicular paths to ruin
Skidding, crashing, melting, bubbling,
Paths fuse and fissure, which spitter into nothing.
In death’s head shell, a poltergeist cackle
A ghoul of concave echo walls
It throws flaming cocktails to profuse undo
And set alight the beams of memory.
And knowledge stolid, solid meals,
Waste to famine, thoughts
To hollow dreams, not recollections,
What deceit
Are believed imaginations.
Set alight those beams
And worn down hollows of privation
I am left with hollow dreams,
Not recollections. What deceit
Are believed imaginations.
Copyright © Alice Reynolds | Year Posted 2025
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