The Dreamer

I live in a dream where nothing happens.

White walls spin and twist around me

and I stare, watching in awe as they disappear

into a non-existent mist.


The world is nothing to me – I do not know it.

Everywhere I look I see blank white pages,

unturned and not written on.

The words come naturally to me but I have no pen.


It is like faith, living in this world.

I have nothing to believe in so I believe in nothing,

because nothing is something that exists in a dream.

No nightmares dwell because I am the nightmares


and the nightmares I dream are like painting on glass:

they are beautiful but not worthy of anything.

So they linger but no one knows. I am

your nightmare, a dream in a dream that no one can fathom.

The End

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