i dreamed of something
one day
and the next day it had flown away.
like a song reverberating on the walls
of a subway underground,
dissolving into the air on a tenuous string.
a dream is but a dream
unless it is made of concrete and sound
my lips spoke the forms of hope and need
wordless, bathed in nightsweat and heat,
a fever i felt, of longing and release,
the next day it echoed
into the empty streets
from the seat of my soul,
it was a pulse left from the memories,
though the images had faded
in the humidity of emptiness
and the suffocation of the simple word 'please'.
a wish to walk in that dreamscape again,
it was a hymn, it was an anthem
that my flesh would follow questionless and kind,
though the night was left behind.

12/02/2011

Posted on 12/02/2011
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