
The artists once-known are growing old…
promised “It” was growing-up…
So strung-up, from touch, eyes-watering now…where is your gold?
Please listen to me if you cannot see,
past maddening illusions of reality…
not always happy nor pretending.
Sail with me (please) along a sea-of-Dreams.
“I” don’t know…
“I” can’t know…
suffering from blows brought-by “Me”,
fighting back “It’s” tides manically,
time sets minds free from altered-imaginative cacophonies.
Wake-up & love — “It” is all a Dream.

Bones shiver in an aching-quiver,
salt coats wounded, chipped sights.
Life seen through a rainbow-halo Dream of refracted, “astigmatic” Light.
Knowing-acceptance of tears — that “It” is O.K. — to cry did not soften the grainy-sting.
Will not argue with reliably-lasting relief this expression of stress brings;
out of the fraying-maze of pursuing imaginative-figurines.
Initially feeling pain to soar-beyond,
heavy saline-rain cleared Clouds looming over songs-unsung.