deepundergroundpoetry.com
Motley Dreamtime Dreaming
There are words written between these lines,
That follow a million nerons
That follow a million miss-fired M.O.A.B's
That follow different trains down different tracks.
There is no who, no what, no when...
Only this feeling...
Sleepers beneath my feet,
Wind howling in my ears,
There is no me left,
Only this feeling.
I run through the wilderness,
I start to feel myself again,
Emotions not so bloodied,
The endless hope of mere moments before...
... now fading.
Catching my toe on a stray sleeper,
I grudgingly AWAKEN...
His hands are calloused, tracing shapes down my spine,
His fingernails scraping the fluid off my back,
Leaving greasy fingertips in there wake.
I have to remind myself to stop asking why,
I want to stay here in this moment,
wrapped in these stained sheets...
I want to ignore the cold grey light of dawn,
slipping through the cracked curtain...
Yet here it is, unforgiving Mr. Time,
Telling us its over,
Back to this...
Back to that...
Back to front...
Upside down round and round we go...
That follow a million nerons
That follow a million miss-fired M.O.A.B's
That follow different trains down different tracks.
There is no who, no what, no when...
Only this feeling...
Sleepers beneath my feet,
Wind howling in my ears,
There is no me left,
Only this feeling.
I run through the wilderness,
I start to feel myself again,
Emotions not so bloodied,
The endless hope of mere moments before...
... now fading.
Catching my toe on a stray sleeper,
I grudgingly AWAKEN...
His hands are calloused, tracing shapes down my spine,
His fingernails scraping the fluid off my back,
Leaving greasy fingertips in there wake.
I have to remind myself to stop asking why,
I want to stay here in this moment,
wrapped in these stained sheets...
I want to ignore the cold grey light of dawn,
slipping through the cracked curtain...
Yet here it is, unforgiving Mr. Time,
Telling us its over,
Back to this...
Back to that...
Back to front...
Upside down round and round we go...
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