Dreams

what good are dreams to a boy like me

my closed eyes see nothing all the night

save dancing spots and black outlines

and when I open them, I see the drunken man

he staggers by outside my window

every night at 4 AM

I see my mother through my door frame

a candle illuminating her face

which hovers above the living room desk

I see the headlines of reality on the newspaper

that flies in through my window frame

thrown by the newspaper boy during his 5 AM circuit

his eyes are bloodshot from choosing fun over sleep

I see, I know

that dreams of night and dreams of day are distractions

and if I dream, I dream forever

Reviews

[. serah .]

~ i really like how vivid this piece is... ~ it's a collage of heartbreaking images... and it reminds me of how diligent i have to be in order to dream of something beautiful when haunted by so many painful sites and sounds... especially because i've been through a phase in life when i lost myself to dreams and lost touch with reality... ~ you're right in a sense... it's challenging to dream within the framework of reality...

[stargirl23]

Thank you:)

[. serah .]

~ you're very welcome... :)

[Ruth]

What better way to cope at times then to dream/sleep...preferably both at once :)

[stargirl23]

So true :)

[Vatsal Rohilla (account..]

That has been said very well. Dreams are distractions, reality matters. one can immerse himself into his dreams, but if doesn't endeavour to realize them, all of them are just useless. The picturesque effect in your poem is wonderful. Lovely piece. Keep writing.

[stargirl23]

Thank you so much:)