Dreams (I)

By Martin Falatic
Written 1994-05-24 16:12
Revised 1994-05-24 16:12

My dreams lie like broken toys, abandoned and forgotten,
          rusting in the chilly rain of yesterday's passion.
The present is unbroken ground...
          only a stern plow will turn over the stubborn desert,
                    my heart,
          and make it live again.
The future stands before me an open road, shrouded in darkness:
          the stuff of nightmares.
Faceless and raw, it mocks my feeble barriers;
          it is the wind in my hair, the cold in my spine,
          it is everywhere, unstoppable.
It rushes towards me, as I stand frozen with fear,
          knowing I cannot stop the clocks anymore.

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