Tag Archives: dreams

Nighttime Afflictions

Cold sweat pricks the hot skin on my neck as I wake up to the nightmare of you not existing anymore, of you ending it all with a rope, of you ending it with the scarlett of your blood flowing through the water of your overflowing bucket, and a bruise impossible to stitch up.
No more of you seeing only the darkness of life; no more of you crying for hopeless endeavours; no more midnight birthday wishes, and no more Valentine’s day texts. A void in the place of an ex-best friend: a you-shaped hole in the universe.
When memories fade, it’ll be your face flashing in my uneven mind- as a stranger I was unable to save, as a blank space none of my children will be able to fill. My memories of you, like an albatross hanging around my wrinkled neck, no amnesia could erase.
Tides of guilt wash over my sleep-deprived mind, reminding me of the indifference of the human kind. Long histories of you and me, rewritten from nothingness to infatuation to love and back, for it would have been too easy to hate you, but I didn’t want to. Instead, I chose the hard way out: of a tale with a ending. In the drama of life, you were and remain a comedy.
A flutter of the metaphorical butterflies greet me as I think of you, and I tell myself that it’s only just a dream. A dream of the sick, morose kind, unlike the ones we dreamt of together.
As I drift back to sleep slowly and forcefully, I dream of shoestrings, and metal scraps, and green apples, none of which render me the emotional intensity to hold my sleep, as I twist and turn all night, thinking of happier nights and moonlit skies.

“I told her I already have a girlfriend.”
Who?”
“You.”

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Beat Dreams

I wish you came in a chopper
And smoked illegal drugs
Worshipping Kerouac and Ginsberg
Cassidy and Borroughs

I wish you were a Dharma Bum
And wore beaded bracelets
Living in a mini van
With no cares about a tomorrow

I wish you walked around half naked
Because clothes bind you down
Living in your ghetto in Bronx
With your Folsom Prison Blues

I wish you wore your hair in a dreadlock
And travelled with your groupies
Being on the road on your whim
With not a worry about the rent that’s due.

I wish you were a Buddhist
Trying out religions new
Alternative sexuality, Cocaine,
Smoking cigars more than a few.

I wish you could let go
Of the spirits that haunt you
Because you’re better than
Always feeling blue.

I wish you weren’t perfect
An illusion you cling to
Tamer than a circus lion
Breathing to live through.


Urban Legend

Under the willow tree, sat she
Not any happier could she be
Into the moonlit sky did she stare
Thinking of all things she could dare

A swim in the deep blue sea
With the sky a hue of ivory
Jumping off a cliff, in the winter
Riding the horse in the summer

Of the multitudes of leaves in the fall
And the birds resounding call
The chattering, happy girls in the park
All living in the moment till it’s dark

Pestilence strikes at twilight
With midnight blues, and Wednesdays
The working weekends, the burnouts
The memories of the Summer gone by fresh, haunting

Of love lost, friends becoming strangers
Lying, Condescending, Backstabbing
Work piling up, assignments keeping her
Up all night with cups of coffee

Dreaming of a day off, of not thinking
Cognizance, Dissonance, Vigilance
Walls coming crashing down
Contrived fa├žades, painted faces

Strangers walking by peeping through her privy
Probing, Judging, Excruciating
She walks with her head held high
Anxiety hurling her insides

Another semester, another quarter ends
Reminiscent of rules broken and bent
As she sat under the willow tree
She dreamt of the time she was free

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