By Kronin Wanderforth
Dreaming now I see through
colored glass the image of
the real world.  I
touch the glass, cold 
and hard and wonder
why I hate reality so much.  
But the strength of the Dreaming
pulls me to the center of 
my own thoughts.  

An image of myself
   seeing myself
   in the dream of my reality
                         -Dreaming costs of
                         little hope with 
                         thankless shapes
                         and open eyes

-But dreaming in the void brings 
only heartache and pain.
-I try to keep the hope of now.
...eating the hope and tasting dirt

-Resting my head in your lap
I am reminded of better times
-When I look in your
heart I see the emptyness
of knowing the heart
that was once so full 
of my love

-Remembering a memory of the past.  
-Breathing in the sent of you 
only reminds me of my lonelyness
-Remembering our happiness together
makes lies of our truths
-Pulling apart the halves
of remembering your love
for me.  

-I wake in fear
grasping at the tatered 
remains of the whisps 
of dream

-I know I must be real to 
really exist, but the
dream feels more real  
and the dream of loosing 
you is more real than the 
reality of never having
you to loose.  

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