Somnolent Cusp

With a faint taste of cavendish
Lingering on my tongue
And eyes like
Twin heads of
Sparrows
Frantically searching for
The horizon under my
Eyelids, I slip from this
World, and
Rise in another
I may or
May not
Recall in the morning.

What a shame the
Mind cannot bring
These precious evening parcels
Back to the waking world
For in these morsels of
Premonition and
Fantasy, we find
The world,
We find
Death, find
Life, find
Terror, find
Ecstasy, find
Amalgamated places
Scraped from the various
Hovels of the skull
Performed invisibly
Upon optical prosceniums
Through varying shades of
Black indistinguishable
From the next, yet
Swimming
In colors only
Darkness
Can conjure.

And despite the
Fleeting grandeur
Of it all, I want to
Forget those
Poignancies of
Life that my mind
Gives me in sleep,

Because even
Fate can be
Wrong sometimes.