Morpheus washes himself over me in this cool grey light
After abandoning me to lusts in the darkness.
The nightmare was not the having of a bad dream.
The waking was, the feeling that none of it,
the closeness and the heat, was real.
Now, molten lead sits on my eyelids and pepper swims behind them.
I dare not allow myself to drown. I may never be able to swim back.


 

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