Grasping the wisps of dreams
Longing for the scent of hope
Chasing the ghost of whims

Gray clouds storm in as dreams shatter
the shards of glass cutting deep
with only pain as my friend.

No blood.

Just the numbing pain,
until I can no longer feel

The dull pain of what was
or what could have been.

Fighting that will to scream
or to agonize.

To fall on the ground for a demon
To imagine anything from then
Would that be weak?

To chase a ghost.
To chase the wisps of dreams.

To long for smoke.

y.k.