By Parineeta Habib
Like a dream within a dream—
such vivid infatuation;
I scream how cold and unfeeling it seems,
in this morning of a stolen dream— a poetic affliction.
My arms strain of the pain from my bad sleeping position—
I blame my tremendous sleep deprivation.
What is this, a game? it seems I've been framed by my brain again? How shall I escape my mind's soft seductions?
I fall in love with naps more than people—
Should I return back to my lucid state of intoxication?
Deluded shame displays, illusion of dismay; delusion of disarray— I pray my dreams stay,
without being tarnished away; under my satin pillowcase of hallucination.
My mind plays tricks; it winds and weaves, staging a nostalgic torture so slow and sleek.
What a perfect little thief, stealing my dream’s grief— Wish I could escape my wild imagination.
Slave to my own creation, nightmare of frustration.
My dreams go slipping away,
before dawn in discretion;
I'm just a pawn after my first yawn;
in this hazy daytime depression;
Silent sighs drawn, a wistful cry of frowns;
Maybe it's time to rebound with my daily caffeine addiction
As the fabric lies under my dreamy goodbyes— overdrawn;
I sip regrets in sweet warm conviction;
Mornings hit hard
with a creamy latte-flavoured self-prediction.
How shall I ever recover from this good morning gone wrong?
What the fiction?