I
fell asleep
before the dark.
In the day
when sunlight
broke into the window,
there I was
in another place.
The morphine
relieving pain.
the thoughts
of fabricated living.
Visionary monsters
parading across
the floor.
I grew
into one
of them.
Long of hair
and short of breath.
Kneeling down
to shelter
the insects
flickering in
my head.
What eggshell
will ever
be the same?
We dreamed.
You and I.
Together.
Telephones ringing.
Doors locked.
Impressionable cups
left empty
without coffee.
Around and around
march the
ambulances,
sirens wailing
in imperfect tones.
I was dreaming.
Just me.
Alone.
Nobody had been
invited in.
Solitude, that
desired feeling,
of hiding
from the
jumping demons.
Once bitten,
twice shy.
Once dead,
now alive.
Grasp at nothing.
Not even worth
the dollar
on the price tag.
I
fell asleep
before the dark.
No wonder
the visions
were
distorted.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a good poem, thanks for sharing dear Chris