Sunday, 17 April 2011

Triumph of the Millionth Loss

It was not really a dream
more like shattered pieces of random scenes
playfully tickling my subconscious state
Blurred noises
Colour-blinded and retinas almost detached
What then has happened to it all?

The burden on my eyelids was almost unbearable
My sweat flooded the sheets as I was desperately gasping for breath
the very reality seemed to want to escape me
My head started spinning
as I finally opened my eyes
Good grief!

I heard the curtains chuckling mischievously
My room sighed in despair
Even my bed coughed up dust of exhaustion

Forgive me
I have wasted you again.


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