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Literature Text
Soon this memory
will fade, much
like the night
that harbored a
dying dream.
If an escape
is what you
seek, the
waking moment
is forever desired,
calling you back
from some
unknown reality.
If, though, the
darkness of the
dream that so
consumes the
mind does not
release you from
its grasp, what
other ways will
you seek to
escape this?
At that end,
do you wish
to be granted
farewell by
someone other
than a priest?
He speaks
meaningless
words above
your tomb that
seem like wisdom
to those who
grieve, yet his
heart is not
encompassed
by sorrow.
...a ghost
forever dwells
in your corridor....
-Brian Shuffett
August 18th, 2008
will fade, much
like the night
that harbored a
dying dream.
If an escape
is what you
seek, the
waking moment
is forever desired,
calling you back
from some
unknown reality.
If, though, the
darkness of the
dream that so
consumes the
mind does not
release you from
its grasp, what
other ways will
you seek to
escape this?
At that end,
do you wish
to be granted
farewell by
someone other
than a priest?
He speaks
meaningless
words above
your tomb that
seem like wisdom
to those who
grieve, yet his
heart is not
encompassed
by sorrow.
...a ghost
forever dwells
in your corridor....
-Brian Shuffett
August 18th, 2008
Literature
Hollow
Your lips move,
uttering words
that your empty eyes
would consume to the
void.
Literature
Drowning in Darkness
It dies and doesn't care,
Its done and over with it
Just make it all come undone once more
Take and take
Break it into bits
Suffocate the air
Drown me in my tears
Its done
its dead
Nothing is there to actually reach
It falls to pieces
never reaching its height
And it dies
Waiting for everything to fall apart
Let go
Its done
why do you even cry?
There's nothing but coldness deep inside.
Am I here?
Do I actually hear?
Are the words reality? Or do they simply cry in fear?
and is there anything?
When agony drowns?
Are you even the same?
Your not… and everything changed
It bleeds and cries just suffocating
Literature
Momentary Death
Each time our gazes meet
my rhythm skips,
and with each missed heartbeat
my sight's eclipsed.
For with each word divine
I catch my breath,
each time your eyes meet mine:
a little death.
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The other poems I have written about dreams I wrote pertaining to myself. So, I wrote this about someone else - no one in particular - and this isn't entirely about dreams.
© 2008 - 2024 bshuffett
Comments34
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This is pretty good. I like the flow of it