Cratered Lake and pot-holed

The soul-hungry collective

stalked empty mauls

Hollow cases

Echoed cries of the old normal

We should have never been

Taking as opposed to giving or sheltering tree



Strung out

How should love be?

A nearby wedding

Featuring meth addicted bested men

Filled the former foyers of Wall Street

With resounding unmet needs

The work is never done

Her sit bones

Touch the cold tile




Through the skin of broken promises

While the fat man-child rots

Pissing himself in the dog kennel

Voluntarily crawls in

As the critical masses weight

To be passively entertained

Or trained

We both risk missing the flight

Either way

She didn’t have time

Palms flush to the rails

Bleeding life lines

Rushing to his helpless side

The tin heart

Beheads a bewildered Dorothy

To raise them all


A summary of nightmares since June of this year. My new journal arrives tomorrow. Can’t come fast enough.

6 thoughts on “Death of a Dream Journal

  1. I’m glad the new journal is on its way – or maybe has arrived by now? Dreams are not my favorite – the pleasant ones disappear; the scary ones continue. Thankfully, I’ve gone through quite a period where I don’t remember them often.

    Liked by 1 person

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