Updated: May 16, 2019

Dreams are the land of seems:

Pockmarked lands over mines of meaning;

A leaning post propping up the moral mind;

Rubble dropped into our brains for grinding

What life seems becomes the fodder of dreams;

with eyes waking or sleeping, our visions show an ego preening.

Lovers return with arms wide open for only us,

but when their arms enfold our bodies, we're left holding only dust

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