Forever upping creaking stairs
and trodding gray sequestered squares,
traversing interlocking hairs
of memories no one ever dares
antagonize.
The deepest reach of velvet seams
scratches loudly at your dreams
and understanding’s cold light beams
so bright your quiet conscience screams
behind your eyes.
Soft colors blend with eerie sound,
and understanding falls aground,
while chaos’s delights abound;
your throbbing head begins to pound,
surrealized.
But you hear a distant calling;
down below—they see you’re falling:
there’s no stop, not even stalling
but for the bed, you’d still be sprawling
though the dreaming dies.