Seven of Cups

by Dylan Garcia about a year ago in surreal poetry

When the Mists of Avalon Fall

Seven of Cups

Elaborate prophecies,

And provocative fables.

Characters, seen but not known

Renders my heart unstable.

Somehow I forget to breathe.

holding the air in my chest

The ache growing in my lungs

These sights will not let me rest.

Vivid and yet so unreal,

These visions make my blood run

A friendly silent torture

This damage can’t be undone.

Rapid fire premonitions

Of things that will never be-

Can’t seem to shake the control

they’ve always had over me.

When our inventions shatter

And truth grips us by the throat

I hope it is not too late

To learn again how to float.

surreal poetry
Dylan Garcia
Dylan Garcia
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