🅿romises bled from the mouth of the moon,
🅾aths carved in fog on a bone-white dune.
🅸 drank from a chalice that mirrored my face,
🆂in made of velvet, stitched into lace.
🅾racles wept in the orchard of skin,
🅽ailed to the silence that echoes within.
🅳eath wore a crown made of whispers and glass,
🆁eality cracked like a serpentine mass.
🅴very mirror refused to reflect,
🅰s shadows grew teeth and began to infect.
🅼y soul is a house where the doors won’t align..
Where dreams drink the dreamer, in slow serpent time.
The poem is a metaphorical horror tale about the poisoning of hope and dreams, where the person himself drinks the illusion, becomes lost in himself, and is escaped by reflection and reality. In the end, it is not the dream that is consumed—but the dreamer himself.
acrostic