Betwixt the Living

What do you dream
in between here and there
when you have no voice to scream?

Who’s the face in the lava stream
from the black rose stare?
What do you dream

when you tell me of the cold steam
that takes you to the lost threadbare?
When you have no voice to scream

to the man in the tight blue jeans
on top of the marble stairs,
what do you dream?

Wrestling with dusty sunbeams,
my reality slips into prayer.
When you have no voice to scream

I want that mainstream morpheme
because– I’m the hollow in between somewhere.
What do you dream
when you have no voice to scream?

***
Hey all,  here is poem 5. Yesterday, I reached the pinnacle of my sickness. I started the day okay but as it went on, the snot just kept pouring out of my nose. I went through the rest of the tissues, a mega roll of Charmin toilet paper, and some partial roll of cheap ass toilet paper. Dayquil just wasn't cutting it so I took Benadryl and went to bed. I am a lot better today-- not 100% but anything is better than yesterday. I did not write at all yesterday. So I have to work on my pages for Camp as well as catch up on my poems for NaPoWriMo.

The prompt yesterday was to write a villanelle. This is my first attempt, and this is a form I want to study more. I like structure, not too fond of the rhyming. I've been thinking about working this form for a while now. I might write my annual Christmas poem in this form.

Well, I've got more writing (and cleaning) to work on.  I will be back in a few hours with today's new poem.