Dreams are portals to subconscious thoughts thought forgotten.
Like a ghost, some dreams can hunt you for eternity,
images that can only be erased in death; for only the dead refuses to dream.
She awoke from her drug-induced sleep, disoriented and afraid.
Chained to a pad-eye
in the middle of a cold concrete floor
frightened,
she wanted desperately to go home.
She screamed until her throat hurt,
but no one came;
God was on vacation.
If we could see the journey writing can take us on, we would be first to buy hiking boots.
Words
strung like
coded pearls
upon a semantic highway
of broken #metaphors
assonance a distant trope.
The execution
of locution
I grasp
to grope
#OneMindOneThoughtOneAfrica
