“Why don’t you come to me in my dreams anymore?

Come and find me in my dreams.

I want to talk to you.”

I,
No longer.
Feel the presence
Of
God

Spectral clouds scatter ghosts of patterns,
As an ink droplet into a puddle of stillness maddening,
Diffusing through its infant pond,
Reaching outward like her iris dilating,

Anticipations of rain upon pink cheeks.

Heart lumped in my throat,
Our future uncertain, yet
I must forgive you.

Brown paper attire
Wraps around my elixir as I retire
From life’s determined saunter
Into the arms of good company

Our toothy grins stained by have-one-mores’
Don’t go yet, they implore
You’re not working tomorrow anyway

Who needs a glass when you have no class,
Only memories and contemplations
Shared straight from the mouth of the bottle
Into the hearts of good company

I am a mountain,
Yearning to soar with birds of flight,
But I am twined with the earth,
Whilst animals ***** empires upon my back.
As a volcano lies dormant,
I, too, murmur gently,
Solemnly observing
My frustrated and polluted vigil.

Ghost of the sky,
Our shadowy stalker,
Pale and weary
From your lonely wander,
Heaven-high tethered,
Stoic and listless,
Illuminate the sleepy and
the sleepless.