The Dream

That dream had such a profound effect on me
Unpossible, yet so surreal
Uncollected, yet so etched
Buried, yet so smothering
The elements in the dream were deemed so illogical
And yet each nuance, each tone, each scene seared itself into my mind since
That pair of lips hath long been separated
Yet this very picturesque fabric chooses to unhurl in the unreal world

Ever had those dreams which left you hurrying to contextualize the footage?
Slowly but surely rolling back the beautiful reels after awake
C led my hand down memorable lanes
While it crumbles the walls of melancholy from work
It hath also erected a groundswell of unhappiness

In my history of C, hits and misses exist side by side
It is still a brutal juxtaposition
The former inspires and latter perspires

I was reminded often about the inflected refrains of giving up
But as those refrains walk past, it becomes such a ceremonial giving up
Cos the erasure, the sense of loss reaches out completely into my mode of thnking

But now, however unimaginable the lifeline is
It is still frictioned enough to cling on to
As I measured affections on my own
Defiance is breathed into my ears.

"As Nietzsche observed long ago, the moderns suffer from the illness of historicism. They want to keep everything, date everything, because they think they have definitely broken from the past ... maniacal destruction is counterbalanced by an equally maniacal conservation." -- Bruno Latour, We Have Never Been Modern