wandering wounded, with the emotions you've brooded,
stacked up around you in piles much too tall.
keeping them steady, makes you tired and you're ready,
for the still sleep that comes without nightfall.
trapped in a dream, that provokes more smoke than steam,
sinister black clouds consuming your view.
unsure if your able, to find something more stable,
arms stretched out for the closest thing to you.
grasped in your hand, a thought you can't understand,
bringing you more than you wanted to know.
whether to trust it, you feel slightly disgusted,
but i'm not sure if you can ever let go...

i know... i write about dreaming too much... but it is really what joins us all in a universe where you cannot possibly know everyone. everyone dreams, sometimes whether they like it or not. i'm not saying everyone has a dream they will acknowledge or strive for, but that they do dream. in reading/hearing the emotions embedded in the soul (or the soul embedded in the emotions) of these surreal portrayals we are reminded of our own, not because the pictures are the same, but because the feeling used to fabricate these inter winding threads resides in all of us. maybe i'm ignorant, and not everyone dreams, but it's something i want and need to believe. without dreams, reality will never change, and if reality never changes, then we really will die from our own poisons. or boredom, which ever arrives first.