forth and back

The problem with always dreaming
is that you never actually sleep
Just hover in between
the same way the metro station lights
never actually shine
but buzz at an acceptable dim
above the packs of domesticated dogs
snarling wildly over
the grizzled fat dangling off their favorite concept
Is it the empty embrace of freedom?
Maybe a hand from which to eat?
A scratch or two behind the ears?

How they start to salivate
How they howl to whistle blows
and assemble
like the lines in a Renoir
There is repetition in this repetition
There is repetition in this repetition
There are ghosts within their mouth-worn bones
Of all our youths
Of all the things we once called love
Of all the moments
that like campfires
left only ashen scents behind

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