Foggy Dreams

I'm dreaming of something out of reach.

Silver like the rhinestone smile of the stars.

It's blue around the edges, bruised by intent.

Black in the middle, an obsidian ink stain.

It presses against my eyelids at midnight.

Lingering there like a houseguest low on luck.

I'll never be able to capture it like this.

There's a crack in my foundation.

Someone cut a corner in my construction.

They knocked out a beam and laughed.

Ah, but I can't forget the silver spit dangling

From the lips some fox on the silver screen

Waiting in the sliver of silver moonlight

For her prey to wander just a little closer.

The dream flutters away and I am hollow.

I bask in the vacancy blooming in my chest.

All signs point to 'full up. move out.'

There's never anywhere to go when you dream.

It's like navigating the fabric of a sweater.

Such an impossible task it turns seductive.

You see how the dream draws me away?

It pulls me from the silver-toothed devils.

Still, the soul wants what it wants, doesn't it?

I suppose I must not want to dream, but live.