Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2019
stuck in an hourglass of identity,
muffled hustling around my eyelids
head buried deep in the shifting sand,
my body wrestles with the happening

stiff legs pulled by horizontal gravity,
brain soaking, turning into electric mush
my eyes bleeding in black as it is
only in my dreams, that I can feel alive

lied naked on the slippery floor of reality,
dipped in and out of the pool of mind
fractals slowly falling off from my vision,
then swaying freely in the air

freed by a different form of mortality,
face sinking, melting into familiar figures
what's hidden below and behind evaporates
to every corner of my shut, rapid eyes

I feel every fibre of peace,
every time the world disentangles from its name
knowing they are all but shapes projected
for the hazy buzzing screen,
that is my present
Hypnagogia - a condition characterised by dreamlike auditory, visual, or tactile sensations when half-awake.
Written by
Av  23/F/UK
(23/F/UK)   
266
     Max Neumann, Fawn, ap and Dream Fisher
Please log in to view and add comments on poems