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  • endless, mindless without intention, I find myself at tea in the middle of the lush green forest of my imaginative creations, the ferns are wet and laden with slow heavy drops of dew, the dankness wafts heavy in the air and draws my breath from my heaving ribs, as my unconsciousness drifts with direction back to the opening in the thicket where the ghostly mist roams, feeds and gathers surrounding plantations. I drift backwards onwards, the old rustic wooden dust filled cabin with the creaking rickety floorboards that bend and bulge and live without passions. The death of a cobweb wafts on thin air, only a skeleton that was previously home to no heir. The old wooden handmade bed with its wide open slats and soft white linen is bare. I see her standing by the open window her long brown fawny hair, softly bids my prying minds eye welcome without beckoning, her long flowing white dress taunting me covering her soft white skin. The only sounds I hear are the waters flowing behind the mist in the green yonder as the bubble and bounce over rocks on a journey to a deep icy cold lake in the magic forest only the mountain waters and birds of fancy colours has ever seen. The vision of peace and beauty, her feet are bare, I wonder why you are there? I need to whisper words to you but no sound, my lips quivering but duly bound. Did you stumble upon my mind or did I stumble on yours? The mystery I could answer if just have a few stolen moments of your timeless past, or present, I might find my future is hidden in your gaze. I cant let you go, and cant have you either, its my listless my lifeless my numbness and my fondness, trapped in a dream of web and writhing lies. The passions of my crimes my windless chimes. The dreamcatcher of my words of non sense and sensibility, the screams that are stifled by a lingering thought not a picture.
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