dreams: a poem by me

dreams are good they say,

a place where you can go to escape the wide awake world

free from toil, pain, hardships, death, love, - life.

My dreams are no such place.

feverish and persistent

I'm in a living ***

I'd rather stay awake than be trapped in a lucid world where these dreams are my reality.

a world where its all black and white

grey and dull and flashing and breathless.

I'm falling down a tunnel while sitting in the grass covered in blood in the sunlight.