dreaming

THE MEANING OF A DREAM

The house is me.
The pool is me.
The open garage is me.
I am the driveway.
My neighbours watch.
Their house taller.
Their minds smaller.
The child in me finds fleeting memories.
My roller skates unsteady along the brick wall.
The laundry tub is me.
The bucket of water is me.
My swollen cuts and bleeding tears are also me.
My mother is me.
Her healing is me.
I am the tiny hands that trap her from leaving.
Her path is mine.
The house is mine.
This house is me.
The dream is real.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 29 June, 2024

EMBERS

As a rule,
I have learnt to fraternise with dreams for gain,
profiting not from indiscretion,
but in the karma sought within such mindful revenge.

Were it possible
to simply matchbox my raw emotion,
the kindling its casket contained
may encourage wild arson –

but perhaps it is less of a burden
to fuck you while I sleep
than to thank you for stoking my fire
while clothed in its flame.

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 7 February, 2020

BOOK OF LIVING DREAMS

In waking sleep we all expire,
remote organics built to tire –
searching lusts for something more
to fill our souls beyond our core

We lay awake inside a dream,
asleep within a constant stream,
alone, in part, to wander, lost,
with passing time our only cost

We play as shadows holding hands
with eyes wide closed and few demands,
our every moment briefly clashing;
fast forgotten memories flashing

Here, we count down from our birth
with time a thief upon this earth –
purpose teased at every corner,
Chinese Whispers our informer

But all will realise when we’re gone
that we were dreaming every song –
that death becomes another story;
a painless world of allegory

It’s clear we write this book forever
as single pages bound together
to lay inside our reader’s minds
in passing paragraphs of time

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 21st January, 2017