Dreamer

The first poem I ever wrote. The title doesn't come from it's surreal nature but from the fact that most of it came to me while I slept.

Dreamer

 

I dream of missing faces

Eyes too blind to see themselves

I dream of lost races

They kept breathing after their lungs were gone

Who tells them the old one’s secret fantasies

Twisted around me like a snake on my neck

Nobody left to pray

Their gods worshipped themselves

 

I dream the nothing dream

Sick and mutilated, they still come

I dream I can’t feel my rage

Screaming at you, we are one

 

Writing all the secrets down

His book is black with ink

No one left to stop him now

No one left to think

No one left to feel this way

Why should you care anyway

 

I dream of dead gods

Tracing the scars on their bodies

Tells a story, like a book

So many keys they never took

So many stars, can’t seem to look

 

She’s made of bits and pieces

Put together with old needles and stitches

Break the bottle in your hand

Can’t seem to think, can’t understand

 

I dream of summer shores

And autumn leaves of gray

 I can’t help but wonder why

It has to be this way

 

You be the shepherd

I’ll bring the knives

Let’s try to figure out

What cattle took our lives

 

Blood in the air

Blood in the ground

Blood’s gonna tell you

Just what you have found

 

On top of my mountain

I’m king of my pain

Inside of my fortress

Is where I’m ashamed

Time’s running out now

I have to be quick

I’ll make you see

Through the eyes of a lunatic