You're drawn in pencil in my dreams
angrily crosshatched in shades of grey
not quite finished, not quite whole -
you appear to me, blurred in places.
You speak of promises and contracts,
and as I remember why you are here-
the world turns upside down...
I wake and spend my morning
in apprehension of the worst -
and I can't even forgive myself
for what I've done thus far -
I am ill at ease, and though you notice-
I wouldn't expect you to understand.
Things are getting more and more
graphic - lifelike - disturbing
things are getting to be
slightly larger than they should,
and I feel lost in a world of giants -
ego and id tumble together into the
belly of a monster big enough
to swallow the world.
I feel that I am dragging
the sun along its path...
ropes and pulleys snap and break,
the sky comes tumbling down.
And we are all left fumbling in the dark.
I may never finish what
I've come here to do...
And if you find me, alone-
painted into this foreign scene,
red ink staining earth and sky-
leave me to my dream, and know
though everything I've done today
has been in thought of you - I may yet
wake and answer to these faults...
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