Night is silent,
only in dreams,
that are full,
of crippled fog,
encircling your ears.
Prisoning your body,
in soft cage,
keeping you away,
for at least,
an age.
From a mind,
bathing in,
useless screams,
and much more,
useless fears.

Night is silent,
only in dreams
where voices,
are soft,
so feminine,
and clear.
In your head,
putting visions,
in eyes tears.
Smile on face,
you cant see,
cause spear of imagination,
pierced your soul,
making you blind,
occupied with a pure joy.

Night is silent,
only in dreams,
where death flows,
throught the cracks,
of hazy green.
Smoky fingers,
softly toucing air,
in despair.
Pain is trying ,
to leave the earth,
in so many ,
weird ways,
but under the core,
it always,
needs to stay.

Night is silent,
only in dreams,
where are no voices,
so masculine,
sharp and deep,
like one,
you now,hear.
Lying in fever,
with scrumbled fingers,
clutching stones on ground,
in need to keep,
yourself from two,
white eyes,
So sick,misantrophic,
and steep.

Minute by minute time pass.
You are trapped between walls,
unable to touch freedom,
to reach success.
Sound of laughing,
slide into your ears,
sweat reache troughtout pores,
screaming on skin,
with herself brining,
all longtime buried fears.
Branch crack behind,
finding you in thinking,
maybe death at least,
will be whisper.
Cute and kind.

Night is silent,
only in dreams.
But you are in catacombs,
far away from land of sleep.
Drunk on poison,
Fooled like a sheep.
Left to his mood,
that is unpredictable,
and keen.

Before he resect,
that useless part of your mind,
his name is Whisperer,
you weren’t dreaming,
night was full of sounds.
and undefined.

El Morya

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