dreamerShe used to run free across the fields

laughing in the sun

now the spasms beat a staccato

dream dream dream


She used to be such a pretty girl

but now all she does is

dream dream dream


Billowing clouds of white around her

lace over her eyes laid out fine

above the rough concrete floor

in the honeycombed dreamers’ den

but all she sees is

dreams dreams dream


When once addicts craved elation or release

now just the sweet escape from electronics and concerns

now just the dreams


who knows what dreams, he thinks

looking at her golden hair

what dreams may come that beat the pale work world reality


that’s where he stays, until day is done and he comes to hide and watch her.

One tablet an angel takes,

one table an angel makes

softly dreaming, darkly dreaming


The floor beside her is dirty with neglect

but clear of debris and waste

dreamers don’t disturb their own sleep


He rests there beside her,


slips his hand in hers


and he wonders what her dreams become

when he sleeps he has none­­­­­