Sunday, 29 July 2012

In dreams

I dreamt of a place
Where my words don’t touch you
And the world was drowning.
Cars lay dead on the roads
Without words,
Without sounds,
There was death everywhere.

I saw you shining
In my dreams
In a place where words wouldn’t move
But the willows, like your dress
Swayed in the wind.
And the sun on your arms
In your eyes, was still
Still, like you.
And there was silence everywhere.

Silence as you walked
Silence as I woke.


What is a woman that doesn't love? Never wronged, watches and hates and breathes from the tower of men around her. And soon, grows into a flower no one will reap and no one will sow. A woman with no songs isn't a woman at all. For a woman who is silent, is a shackled woman.


I used to dream like the breeze. Now I dream like a highway car crash pile-up. The vast expanse of my subconscious stretching out like a road on which all the little glowing engines of memory trudge along, just a little too close, at a breakneck speed.