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I have been in a state of dreams,
where immaculate eyes closed against the tide of rushing waves,
my breath crystallizing in the morning air
when I opened my mouth to breathe it in.
I have looked in the unfathomable dark — stared across the barren lands and felt its cold breath breeze across my left cheek —
left it untouched while the depths stretched to reach my awaiting palms.
I was ignorant while perfectly sound;
mad, mad, mad I must be yet I know it not to be truth.
Fear arising from the abyss is cold,
and the touch of the desolate now seeps into my fingers,
losing and then seeing,
creating one fiber at a time
into a wasteland of dreamscapes.
