Scribbles...

A flat life defined so incompletely by scribbles.

He lay in bed eyes closed but wide awake,
Dreaming the dreams before settling to sleep,
Slumber before the slumber,
A somnambulant romp through
Clean streets,
Smiles without grounds,
Falling into open air,
Eyes closed, shut tight.
Bodies soaring through holes in rusted chainlink fences.
Bonds cut away from limp, bruised wrists.
Floating up to outstretched arms,
A girl giving smiles concrete under their feet.

Smudged ink on paper,
Words and shapes and sizes
And the dreams before dreams.
Swirling lines and frustrations
Leave the pale as dark as a rainy night,
Raindrops press footsteps onto
Windows covered in dust.

Awaking from dreams before dreams,
Eyelids speckled by the dark
The smell of your hair,
The breath on your lips,
Hands smeared in ink,
And words without grounds.
A laugh, a smile, a tear,
And hope.

As the two lay in the damp grass,
Attempting to catch falling stars,
Cupping their hands under majestic streams of consciousness,
Hoping beyond hope that
She will be there when he opens his eyes.

He bids "bonne nuit".