White wind;

whispers that peel away

the layers of reality.

Sunlight wavering,

falling into mist.

The outlines of ghosts;

shimmers and glimpses

of translucent shadows;

an unseen army

echoes of the living.

Dreams trapped inside us,

swirling colors,

landscapes full of rainbow gleams,

and blue sound.

Aching feelings for a world

we will never truly know.


Reality lost in tangles of dreams

in briar roses and weeping willows

in trees of gnarled beauty;

branches twisting toward ceilings

like night skies emblazoned with

the spiral galaxy of stars we once lived in.

Now we stand silently,

entranced by this world, ruled by visions

becoming the darkness, the shadows

hiding in the corners until we fade to nothing;

pale figures drifting across

a floor of leaf-green marble, listening to echoes,

and the whispers of white air.

The pattern of life, an endlessly repeating spiral

we wished we had understood before

our eyes turned so dark even starlight drowned in them

and lions cried golden tears.


Light unfolding into the past,

memories swept aside, and the future

suspended; a hovering grey haze

laced with silvery sounds

that keep twisting and swirling;

contours ambiguous.

Below a sea of crimson flowers,

swaying in the foreign storm

and in the moments when sound evaporates;

you can see in the center the outline of a girl,

blurry in the blinding light,

the atmosphere pulsing around her,

the air dancing with brilliant color,

butterflies; wings stained blue with lost sky.


Years pass in

tangles of dreams;

cobweb patterns of

warped time

and brilliant visions.

Red flowers glow in our hearts

dance in our minds,

like explosions of fire.

We spread out our hands

and break the night;

watch frozen pieces of stars

falling, glinting silver.

And the storms of butterflies

burn golden

in the center of our world

until only illusions remain.


I watch them dancing

like rays of golden light

they shimmer. Their faces

those of angels, obscured by dust,

humming melodies, resounding

like echoes of the future. Worlds

like puzzle pieces in my head; merging

only to break apart again. A sun

drifting silently across a pale blue sky.

Photographs fall like rain, their colors

fading as they fly to the ground, dry out,

faces growing distant;

puzzle-pieces breaking apart.

Behind my eyes I can see dark flames,

a world of fire burning inside.



Imprisoned within.

Another world.

A red sky fractured


featureless shadows

sparkling darkness

deforming the air.

Their foreign whispers

without essence; heartless

soulless, and without a core.

The ground no longer stable

but rising and falling in waves.

Liquid fire burning our throats

And in the place our hearts were supposed to be

We stumble, groping sightlessly

the unstable walls of subconscious

our nails clawing fruitlessly the confines of

Another world.

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