Blue Clouds, Red Sky
A Poem About Our Dream
Blue clouds
Red Sky
*
It can’t be real
I’m dreaming
I’m fleeting
*
Blue clouds
Red dreams
Red clouds
Flowing downstream
*
Sand flowing through
my hand
Sand falling through
their land
*
A square in a square in a square
Squares falling perpetually into each other
in a furniture store
*
There’s a red sky above the furniture store
Where the roof used to be.
Bombs falling in a furniture store
Blue clouds,
Red fire
*
Furniture floating and falling
Suspended in the air
Frozen in time
Floating through nothing
*
I’m looking down towards the ground
When did I become the half-built table?
When did I become the red sky?
When did I become the bomb?
When did I become the half-built table?
*
When did the roof become invisible?
When did lights shoot through the sky?
*
Blue, Green
Red, Green
Flash infinite night
I close
Eyes close
Sorrowed blinking eyes
*
My body cracking
Crushed under the weight
Eyes in the night sky
Watching over me
*
A shadowy hand crawls over my mouth
I can’t breathe
The hand screams
*
Where were you?
I needed you
I looked everywhere for you
I touch your face
Stroking my own cheek
Our mirror slowly melts
*
Caleidoscope klouds
Flashing hues
Crashing hues
Flashing news
of the end of the world
reds whites and blues
Winds in the leaves
singing the blues
*
Creativity was bred in the dark
(hiding from those awful clouds)
Creativity was bred in the dark
In her mind
Born from a friend
*
She vanished
Her dress flew in the wind at the empty table
Pink clouds rose up behind our empty ghosts
Whispers stained the glass table
Her dress flew in the wind at the empty table
*
Infinite dreams
Mirror chasms
Flowing like streams
Worlds into worlds
*
Red clouds,
Blue sky
Too loud,
Dead eye
*
Nightmares never stop
Infinite terrors
Infinite dreams
My hands scream
As they stroke our cheek
Faces melt into each other
On her pottery table
Blink if you’re awake
blink if you awake
bliinkifyoureawake
blink if you’re aware
*
Her dress flies in the wind
Running from those red clouds
The sky is blue today
Why does that feel strange?
About the Creator
Patrick Poulin
I am a young writer, actor and filmmaker based in Montreal. I am passionate about art and storytelling. I am a student at McGill University in the Bachelor of Arts program with a major in Literature.
They/Them
instagram: patrick_poulin2001
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