We all dream of someone,
Doing something to us.
Whether it is painful
Or completely pleasurable,
The subconscious decides.
And into me or out of me,
Something flows slowly,
Drifting between states
Of semi or hemi awareness.
One comes to me often,
Every time, every night.
There are hands, and a mouth
But never a face, not once.
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll Wonderful poem...well written..... (There are hands and a mouth But never a face, not once) R.E.M llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem. Really good, really love the last few lines.