Cloaks, Dreams, and Daggers

 

I had forgotten how possible it was 

  To wake up 

    So out of whack. 

Half the day is gone. 

  Yet not the impressions of the dreams. 

More than a taunting, 

  They had been a living manifestation of my turmoil. 

  Breathing in my psyche 

The repressions I have not unfolded. 

A conjunction of foreign beaches met by futuristic havens of vagabonds. 

A school I had never seen, with an old flame's face who often walks in, to many a dream.  

Something about him- a representation perhaps? 

Incarnated Soul Tribe? 

I loved him once, but long ago had our path separated and died...

So what was it about Him, specifically, 

  That he would keep showing up 

In my dreams? 

He is not Ro. Not Ricky. Not "Aims", whose name now looks foreign to me, as I write it. 

  

  So why him? 

Odd as it all may seem...

  The more efacing matter was the scream. 

The relentless casting away from me, my peace. 

Pursuant. 

Like a Bad dream. 

  Taunting. Haunting. Casting a great Demon over me. 

And upon my wake, oh the shake, 

 

  The inability to just quickly shake it off. 

Instead it sat upon me, like a massive rock. 

Blurred and Bogged, 

  I would arise, the heavy damp strain beginning to leak from my eyes...

And looking around...

   Looking around...

How could I ask anybody to love me now? 

The abandonment, a cloak of reminders.  The distress addressing my need to pick up the phone- 

Only one soul I want to speak to...

But...

It is no time to call. 

  My anger arises, that no friend he has been, 

through my forgiveness of it all. 

Tears stream, to no certain trigger at all; rather it seems, I am just a vessel leaking. 

And today is just one of those days. 

I can't tell, if it's me or him, 

  Them or us? 

The world crying, 

  and I'm just soaking it all up? 

But I suck it up... 

  and start to the chores. 

I suck it up, 

  but catch myself in the mirror. 

Remnants sad to view. A breaking of such a fine soul, and no witness.  She will crack 

   Behind closed doors. 

She will cry in silent screams 

and cover her wailing in towels and pillows 

  When she needs. 

She will suffer silently. 

The love she needs, Never in Hue. 

Their needs, her Boot. 

She is a shell after all of you. 

Another abandoned fragment. 

  Invisible. Unmet. 

Wet, with Dominion. 

Starved from Abandon. 

Siphoned, 

   For her life. 

Her Light. 

Now....

  A dying hue. 

The dreams were just another reminder of You. 

The congestion in my lungs too. 

The Smokey char 

  Of the last five years past. 

Coping. Killing myself. 

   To cope. 

It all sat so unbaringly heavy 

  As to it all, I awoke. 

The dreams of Psyche. 

  The dreams of Smoke. 

The canopy I got stuck in. 

Height. 

   Separation. 

         and Cloak. 

Waking up like this. Another day without you. 

I think that is the joke. 

It is becoming...

   One dark. One sick. One ruthless joke 

        Over me. 

While you haunt. 

   While you taunt. 

While you literally say nothing, 

  Yet telepathy you play. 

It is time you stop ruining me. 

  It is time you say what you need to say. 

Because all this...

  This is so unfair. 

Haunting me so ruthlessly, 

  and seemingly without a care.