Morpheus

i dream in black and white,

ragged edges

and pages torn at random.

in unconnected thoughts

littered with human debris.

in brightly coloured post-it notes

on which a single line of a poem i will never finish haunts me.

when i dream

i see myself hanging languidly

in the liminal

weeping gently.

a perfect moment

of unguarded stillness seeps

from beneath my skin

where the fissures have yet to heal.

the dry years have

cracked and withered my deadening

soul.

there is no respite.

when i sleep

the grotesque beauty of a life

lived in emotional seclusion

finally betrays me.