Going out into the darkness of the night
from the cozy luminance of my room,
I embrace the life of wandering through
the grief and sorrow of the sleeping world.
I can feel my senses heightened to smell
their silent dreams and see the warmth of blood
that flows within their arteries and veins,
like a stealthy, nocturnal beast of prey
that hunts alone for itself in the woods.
Sadness has a muskier odor than joy,
from the scent of countless dreams I have smelled
I know, grief is more eternal than bliss
and sorrow is heavier than happiness.
As I stalked around for the darker dreams
bitter in taste but fleshier to sustain
myself for the coming day and some part
of the evening too, an abundance
of them was too obvious to overlook.
I remember the days when I was young,
the woods were less free but nightmares…
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