"Awaking,
My dreams linger in the laburnum of my head,
My thoughts suspended by a thread of imagination..."
There is an insane country of dreams
That continually beckons me.
That like hands kneading dough, continually kneads
My cranial chaos to phantasms of pure bewilderment.
I try to avoid them, those hands.
I try to run away from that country.
Yet each morning that hangs
Cold over my waking body
Draws me back to that riot-realm,
The dream reduced to the stale taste of
Night in my mouth.
