After the Spinning Wheel

May 18, 2012
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Pinch me:
as this ribbon of crimson floods down from my eyes.
as salt kisses blood on my lips.
as birds fall from the skies
(I must be dreaming. Aren’t I?)

Awaken me:
as the sun fades to the west as his grand finale.
as the moon never rises for it has fallen from her vantage point
as the stars blink out, one by one, from the heaven’s valley.
(I must be dreaming. Aren’t I?)

Kiss me:
as the darkness takes over
as the nightmare consumes what’s left of me
as Death steals the final four-leaved clover.
(I must be dreaming. Aren’t I?)

Where are you?
I only hear my own voice.
I’m only speaking to this darkness.
And one hundred years of sleep never bestowed another choice….

This was never a dream, was it?

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