Gargoyle of Dreams

Smell the sea;

stand barefoot in the warm sand.

Let the water, like my dreams and your visions,

run into and out of your hands.

There were once two men inside me;

one was younger and a dreamer,

the other older and was not.

They otherwise were equal.

Or so it seemed until they fought;

For the young man was a dancer,

danced upon the old man's head,

still when someone finally turned to look

the scene was cold, the young man dead.

The dreamless had gone missing,

ran away in fear it seems;

of what he'd done and what he hadn't,

now for a while he’ll have sad dreams.

My pen slide error slows,

still a watch dog's terror shows

in many unsung songs

left there for you to see,

such worthless hyperbole.

Admire your handiwork,

you may have killed the dragon,

believing to be righting wrongs,

but if you drink that which will kill you,

and bad taste remains after you die;

you are the same as I.

Still I am a little older,

and may die sooner than you.

Perhaps you'll do better but what a joke it is how

the greatest of my dreams had the saddest results.

But I guess it had to have;

as the only peace I know

is ugly and a whore.