Dreams of a Besotted Mind

I was in love once, like a paper bag floating aimlessly in a breeze, like a blazing light crashing through the window at night, like a fading will in a fight.

Those days are gone, like memories fading with old songs, like mist from parched skies, like age flies from aged eyes.

I search for star dust, like a dying salmon for a tide, like terns for a gale in their flight, like life for a last pride.

My mind wanders alone, like a mad man pursuing a mirage, like blue velvet spread over a montage, like atrophying souls living in a camouflage.

But I run mindlessly chasing down, from ascetics to clowns, partial wisdoms and lives, and partial smiles, hiding blank thoughts, and blank wars they fought.

I stumble upon fettering dreams, riding galloping horses and screams, in my throat, sordid and hoarse, torn by time.

Albeit I am dead, what shines along, in the shimmering grey light, of a new moon burning dry, of footsteps that cry.

And there you stare back, like time through a mirror,
cackling and mocking, but making me smile,
leaving to this world a sound, chimes that I found,
buried under bones, of a besotted mind…