i suffer perennial delusions

those visions of grandeur

present a new hope annually

but each failure withers my bones

and i lie in wait, dreaming of a better day

when i will pick up the pen, say ‘dear reader’ and someone will truly be on the other side

verily i say unto thee, i am frightened and so alone

dreams of a life where all that glitters is gold and nothing breaks my bones and i’m never too cold and i don’t grow old wait behind my eyelids

that’s where i run to

that misty plane between this world and the next where dreamers walk every night, i walk among them in daylight

my mind constructs castles in the hazy air to which i’ll never hold the key

and so i stare up, up, up, and am left alone to dream