Dollhouses & War

The first attempt at proper poetry and the next and the next.
"Not a tea stain, but a rain stain,"
"Does my heart tangle like headphones in a pocket?"
"...mascara tears registers exhilaration under rapid music beats. "
"Love is the only blood we will bleed as / Together we fall into a rainstorm."

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8. The Peculiarities of Dreams

#EIGHT

 

Is it not funny how

On the edge of sleep

Dreams can grip you but not possess you?

 

Behind your eyes darkness no longer lays

Instead there’s light,

Maybe a carnival,

A beach,

A dark basement

With rickety stairs,

Eyes just blurry enough to not harm you yet.

 

It’s in this moment,

Whether you are falling out or into sleep

That everything sharpens to clarity.

Crystal clear waters where

Your mind tumbles over, 

and over itself 

again.

 

If you’re falling into Dreams you

Feel yourself sinking,

Deepening into the burrow of duvets

And fields of Dreams.

 

If you’re falling out of Dreams you

Feel yourself rising,

Flying,

Hovering,

Just enough to know.

You know this is not real,

The edges aren’t as sharp as they were.

But you don’t gain your wings just yet.

 

If you’re falling into Dreams you

Allow yourself to be taken,

Swept away,

Disbelieving rationality

In favour of feeling lips upon lips

Or happiness in the heart.

 

If you’re falling out of Dreams

You remember a night long before,

A moment that opened its eyes a Dream

Or year before.

A moment you forgot as eyes were opened fully,

Chasing the Dreams away for the final,

final time

 that day.

 

Dreams will grip you,

Hold you in its arms

Like a mother would.

And it will wait until the right moment,

When you’re comfortable enough,

When you burrow enough into duvets,

To take you into its heart. 

 

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