With dead dreams
Can you ever sleep?

Struggled, befriended effort
Only to return to  blankets
Of disheartenment where despondency
Warms your heart as it tears you apart.

Do your dreams die
When sleep departs?

Shattered limbs and blisters reposed in your mind.
The blood moon residing in your eyes.
Your resolves never diverging as you hobble.
Paving the path with skin, flesh and blood.

Sleeping beyond the grave
Do dreams live on?

Eyes roped by gardens of thorns and fleeting petals. Dreams whistle wonders, kindling hope, in hearts of those still asleep, wandering in dreams.