street sleepwalking

ive been in shelters, ive had homes 

between radio feedback

caught between fm-am tones

 

there is a room

invigorating, intoxicated with

hope for the easy things 

 

i look around rooms 

drowning in dead stares and motifs 

with my eyes gripped, lingering on the tv

 

droning am dreams, dreams of better things 

a concrete room with concrete walls

and slabbed concrete, out windows aswell

 

eyes lingering on the tv

 

am turns into pm

pm blinding, moonlight reflecting

the concrete glows in the night

 

dreams of dreams,

dreams of better things

concrete ceilings, so my prison would be pure

 

in my ink, my hands 

my bloodline link, my pen-grip on reality 

words and their nightmare interpretings  

  

there's dead children in the homes i see 

too worried about if they'll actually be 

stares and sounds, concrete floors, lost sanity 

  

we're all alone, in this room of will bes 

and dead children still speak 

of dreams, and their happenings 

  

what we're never going to be 

we're all alone 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

There are those who will live and die with unfulfilled dreams.
They see things on tv that show them dreams achieved are only for some...the lucky some.
Meanwhile they eat their Raman Noodles, work their butt off...and only have three channels because they cannot afford more.
j.