Eyes open from a well of time past the veil of a stubborn horizon.
Lost realms of reality no longer co-exist with the supple fabric of feeling.
Dreams begin to rise, lofting behind them the backdrop of darkness.
A space not awake yet alive, where vision refuses that in reality.
...
Lost, I'm afraid, within the forest of confusion.
My will, drowning, within the lake of depression.
Found; how do I stand, atop the quicksand
Of misery, fruited, by thine own hand.
...