I dream of hospice

Growing fields of daisies lining the old playground's path

I dream of abandoned, ancient cityscapes

In perpetual evening

Tigers with wild eyes

People with lying eyes

Pictures with crying eyes

I dream of worlds best left unknown

My footsteps trailing sand in an icy realm

Tattered clothes, priceless trinkets, solemn purpose

And a mocking glance that only half-tells the truth

I dream and I awake

I live through my derisions

Persisting like a hidden wound

Intimate yet uncared for

Reminding you with nagging insistence

But in reluctance, I accept the plain truths it shares

As day turns to night, the evening grows cold

I close the window and the blinds, forgetting their old purpose

Seeking only the sobering grip of a noxious deluge

A secure grip, tight in its insanity

No wonder it finds me in such welcome submission, tonight