Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jul 2013
I had four dreams last night.                                                           ­                                                                 ­          

In my dream
there was a man
alone in a room
surrounded by frames without pictures,
walls without windows,
faces without voices,
living another man's life
exactly as he was told he should.
He did not feel sad
because he thought
there was no point to feeling.
So he thought he was happy.


In my dream                                                            ­                                    
I saw a woman                                                            ­                                    
laying alone in bed.                                                             ­                                   
She had watched her life                                                             ­                                   
slipping past                                                             ­                                           
day by day.                                                             ­                                             
Her children had                                                              ­                                  
grown and gone,                                                            ­                                    
and her lovers                                                           ­                                     
forgot her name.                                                            ­                                    
She fell asleep each night                                                            ­                                    
embraced only by the cold.                                                            ­                                    


                          ­                                                                 ­                                             In my dream
                                                                ­                                                                 ­           was a boy
                                                             ­                                   who sat and watched his friends
                                                         ­                                       running and laughing.        
                                               ­                                                   He wished that he was beautiful
                                                       ­                                         and that everyone else would like
                                                            ­                                                              loo­king at him,          
                                                                ­                                                   his hair and his makeup.
                                                         ­                                                         But they dressed him up
                                                              ­                                                       in a suit and tie          
                                                                ­                                   and they cut his hair short
                                                           ­                                     and everyone thought he was just
                                                            ­                                    bad at being a boy. Disappointment.


In my dream, I was a city.
My streets were filled with dreams
and the dreams were filled with ***
                                   and greed
                             and pain
                         and lust
          and loneliness.
My buildings ached
like weathered bones
and I felt myself being torn
            at the seams
because no one cared
to hold me together.
And as they died,
they never knew
that they
      were me,
          and I,
I was immortal.
Riq Schwartz
Written by
Riq Schwartz
  871
   Brycical, K Mae, --- and Robert C Howard
Please log in to view and add comments on poems