broken dreams

I ran behind those broken dreams,

trying to grasp, yet void fists,
whisked by wind,
too far to reach,
in to the middle
of a wretched storm,
empty of soul,
quenches its devilish thirst
of each word of my dream
washed them of soul and ink..


And I stood there watching
wet and tired
cold and strangled
as if i were the dream
when done with the bloody meal
it abandoned it like rotten meat
afloat in a puddle by my feet
I scavenged the drain with my long fingers
eyes flooded with memories
of when they dug in to your arms
and you had me like a beast
now all that remains
of the insane self as if at blaze,

are those withered thoughts
of broken dreams.