Dreamland
© 2011 W.A. Kostelec (The Devil is Beating His Wife)
There is a tunnel into darkness that rises like a cloud above my bed
Obscurities slip in and out of shadows,
at the crossroads of the living and the dead
There is no sunshine in that Dreamland the light is always flat and cold I can never see the faces clearly,
friends slip like rabbits down a hole
Seeing is not the key to recognition, I know my eyes are always closed It’s not the vagaries of the faces
but the heavy presence of a soul
Chapters in a story never written so many important things unsaid
Footsteps on a road I’ve never taken,
diffusions from the heart into the head
If there were a Hell I wouldn’t find it beneath the Earth in a cavernous tomb
No Demon needs to lead us on the path to
the salty suffocation of the womb
There is a tunnel into darkness that rises like a cloud above my bed
Obscurities slip in and out of shadows,
at the crossroads of the living and the dead
