In my restless dreams, I see that town. A piece of me is lost somewhere in there, searching for a home, but the host died a long ago. Drifting in a gust, a blinding haze, whispering like a sheepherd whistling over his murdered sheep.

Whenever I see you through the glass veil, I look into a disturbed pupil. A mad judge, sucking my consciousness into a bleak trance of dissolution. Sentenced to live inside a prism of blurry mirrors under the dim light of Autumn.

You promised you’d take me to that place again someday, beyond the dreams of the past, but you never did.
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