Q u i d a m

Relics of clayed dreams

Hands tremble, body jerks forward

I smile with faint lips, see there's no lie

Earth rotates, reality spines

Winds blow air shadows in the sky,

Like distorted trees on exposed skin.

I shudder at the blown curse,

If it's a lie, what's been never lied to?

I know, I'm trapped in the effulgent false—

it's worst when the world is so weak,

I can't get out of this ashen dream.

I narrate hundred, thousand stories

Tell me, who's there to listen to dreams?

to the individual, to the universe

everything has been breathed through nature's

harmony, and I must conceive— failed to seek

the right order of souls,

by resuming with strings.

Is there even a way to fit and trail?

I gasp for busting out, everything is a lie—

I touch, hearth rolls out— don't believe in them,

I and you are never true, it's an illusion of verity,

I turn for escape but clawed dreams never reshape.

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