Lucid Dream Poem by Mark Gould

Love is just a word,
A crushing veil,
Cloaking light, sealing
Strangling every breath;
Until weighted lungs give way to dooming death.
A red hot sword,
Slowly piercing, searing
Delicate, fearing flesh,
Severing last clinging chords of
Fangless, hollow, hope.

A brooding cloud,
Stalking with every face, with every smile
Gouging eyes, bleeding life’s last
Tears
Until death, like a warm, sunny spring day
Amidst a numbing, stinging arctic night,
Frees a fallen heart.

Love,
An endless pit,
Devouring inch by inch
The soft tissue of my soul.
Salivating in delight, with each crushing crunch.
An endless itch,
That burns with each soothing scratch,
Leaving a blistered, bloody mark,
That time nor nurture can erase.
A thoroughly charming thief,
Breaking in
Taking what little that is left
Only to leave a home empty,
Empty
And alone.

Love,
A scowling echo,
Past lies haunting revived fears,
Muttered gossip that grows and flutters;
Like butterflies softly swooping past alerted ears.
A devil’s dervish trap
To ensnare will less weak;
Feasting upon them like wicked wolves on a captured kill.

Yes,
Love is just a witless word;
An elusive, hellish, heaven;
A fallen, false messiah;
A believable, broken promise;
A living, lucid dream.

A lucid dream…
That I can never,
Ever,
Escape from.