painting dreams

crow ring

it’s too late for us now
i know that
but still
these nights
i find myself falling
asleep
painting dreams
where the two of us
speak
it’s not nostalgia
it’s something different
something out of true

gravity and scavengers
do their damage
until all that’s left
are remnants of something
that never really was
just broken pieces
of a tired man
with dreams triggered

by a dead man’s switch

 

 

Words and Image: B. Reeves

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