The Air is Full of Lies

All my words, stolen, flow from my veins; bleeding black ink, I fill the emptiness. I cannot write of today, of what I heard, those poisoned words. Dream, o dream, o dream: What do we dream? Lies; without a care these people plan their lies. We cannot say it, said they, we must not say what we mean. O dream, I long for you, but I wake to hear such words.

The projector’s sheet is folded, and I sit in this abandoned theatre, the darkness all around. The movie is over; I cannot dream forevermore. I’m tired of the lies.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.