I’ve lived a quarter of my life rarely dreaming. Doing what was meant never got my consent. I felt done in; Seemed to have forgotten what it was…to dream...A dream not dreamt is a life not lived. I dream of busy days, clear nights. I dream of clever takes on forks and knives..the plot thickens…I go deeper into sorrow when I borrow. Make it a living hell, let it shed a tear, Do you care?My dreams are born and broken, Dreams torn and forgotten, lead to nothing. My windows dark and grey, My chair rests and my towel comforts my dreams..soaked by night, dry by morning. I wake up lost to reality, My life fading a dream realizing, what I am…I am what I dream. I dream of no religion and no care but dare to live in this thoroughfare. The pressures of performing are daunting, Stop asking, Stop following, Stop expecting, Live as you are wanting. My dream is my living in the comforts of my surrounding. Fearless I tread a path of fragility, An unknown entity I belong alone, happy with every moment counting..I dream of fleeting memories, A distant drudgery pulled together by gravity. This is me dreaming, My reality, I am living my dream. My dreams are places where I have enough to take, never to fake, Accepting and rejecting… reality seems to fade faster than my fate. My dream is a safe house out in the cold wilderness….miles from no where…exploring…My dreams are lucid, lurid, at times,morbid to a stretch I fail to question ? Voyeurism is a daily feature, a treat like no other, Dreams are made of these retreats trapped under suffocating boulders of eternal surrender. I let go…to attain absolute tranquility for ever.