The Globe Trotter&The Waterfalls (1st Act: The Dream Noir) Poem by Ayden Fotko

The only thing i can remember now is that i wait for sleep
...to sleep in a dream...not really with a sense to dream,
but in to remember of past dreams, forgotten by oblivion itself.
...I am forgotten by those dreams themselves...

Glazed i was by the undersuns twilight of the white hole horizon
...glazed...bareheaded...decoyed clocks preserved in time...

A dream within two dreams. I am the single dream.
Driven by the poems, written by dream-made dreamers, by Globe Trotters
...a wonderful double-time dream syndrome...

A few night-mares were lurking from a weatherlong distance..
...when coated in by the dress of dreamscape i woke upon a cloud
realising myself lifted above the birds of inspiration
and in an astonishing taste of view i watched the rain in the sound of the
sun-sleeping snore, while an invisible globe trotter was promising me to cross me over...and i believed in blither gleams...

Hypnotised by flattering design i slept once and again and woke up caressed by the rainfall of hopes, not far away from the dope lakes of expectation, on the rushing streams of the river of the burning ambition
floated upon a day...and heading for the waterfalls of the narcotic flowers

Forgotten by oblivion itself
so predictable..
..as i believed in blither dreams
The burning rivers i flee
So now i know reality is more than i can haste