Dreaming

Daydream life, 

At lunch-time, 

Slipping poison tenderly, 

Upon the pile, 

The graceful movement of a hand, 

The deftness of ease,

Just like my head, 

As it drifted downwards,

To rest upon the pillow. 

I dreamt things I had forgotten, 

Things that still rankle in my bones and blood, 

That make me sick or wheezy, 

And climb atop the very day, 

To which I, 

Like a fool, 

Feed, 

With an idea of freedom. 

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