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These dreams

In your dreams do I exist?
Because you do in mine
Am I visible through the mist
And the smell of turpentine?
 
What do your dreams consist of?
If it’s not me and you
What do you insist on?
I’ll help to make these dreams come true
 
In your dreams are you sat in orchards
With apples falling from the trees?
Do they press upon your chest
Do they make you wheeze?
 
Or are you sat on mountain top
Just to enjoy the view
But are you shocked at what you see
Yourself staring back at you?
 
Do you need my help at all?
Or will I just let you be?
In these dreams you stand so tall
It’s clear you don’t need me
 
But I’ll be here waiting when you wake
With outstretched arms open wide
But you’ll still be hazey from the stench
Of that dreaded turpentine

(2012)

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