- Books, Literature, and Writing
The insipid dream of love.
The insipid dream of love,
Fits the mists of slumber like a ghostly glove,
Twitches and smiles wrestle the body deep,
Trapped in a private scene of delight while you sleep.
A love affair ensues with optimal curiosity,
But in this realm of sleep all you find is animosity,
There's a face that you recognise yet the name is obscure,
You seem to know the voice but you cannot be to sure.
You feel love you feel hate they switch like night and day,
Emotions strong begin to tilt feelings get in the way,
Is this joy or is it ridicule the line between is blurred,
This one sided sleep monotony is more than absurd.
You cannot control the outcome it's far beyond your grasp,
Like trying to hold onto fresh air no substance for you to clasp,
Scenes fade in then distort your view while sounds just ricochet,
You stand behind the other you lips unable to have their say.
The sheet pulled tightly makes the fingers quake,
Lost in the moment of desire emotions coiled like a snake,
Sweat upon the brow glistening like stars above,
An echo of a far off voice speaks the mysteries of love.
Like a spectator you view with unblinking eye's,
As the scene unfolds reveals to you a quiet surprise,
It's not going the way you'd hoped it should,
Contradictions of reality now misunderstood.
The hour's till twilight seem to pass in a blur,
Your body aches with torment like you were really there,
Mysterious groans leave your lips betraying restless fears,
It's only when you open your eye's the vision disappears.
Twists and turns like some graphic soap opera,
Colours mixed with passion stimulate the drama,
Hopelessly waiting for the producer to say "that's a rap",
Déjà vu in a dream becomes a paralyzing trap.