Seeds of the Dandelion

Day's Last Dream

I'll call this the first entry into my last hope of ever dreaming again.

Daydreams were my life
The search for yonder
The need to fill my fleeting morrows with the aching wants of today
A feedback loop of impossibility
Of longings wicked and familiar.

This life lie cold in a sort of fever-dream of the past's sun-bleached and forgotten bones.

One need only falter blindly to be swept away in dream
Snatched up as mere pawn in some other's time.