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These dreams cordially inept to the person I am

were so long remembered that into this realm

I seek only to forget them as zephyrs lost in the winds, damn

for were they not the ones to shroud my despair as in seams...?



They were meant to live in my head, for blossomed by even more lies

nurtured by rapts and ecclsiastic thoughts, only to be sought

in time of utmost despair and fly they would, rise

by my side, in black clad, how should i owe?



They, ethereal partitons of perceptions, as time went on

I learnt, they were not made to be lived, gone

not hearing what I want to, faking your longings

thinking for arrogance of thought, sinking...



Yes, dreams are pecky things indeed,

meek, desolate, least blissful, yet my deeds

permit me not to live without them, seeds

of my mind, intriguing the creeds


This is so lamely simple...

Let me fall in them... Yes, let me see your eyes again...

So void black, let me fall in them again... and again... and again...