I rise to a falling thought.

A sentence written half in dream.

Some hidden truth I sought.

Or so awakened it seems.

Half the words in whiskey breath.

A drunken disarray.

I see myself in those words.

It is me, still the same.

Are dreams only from waking moments.

Or does imagination count.

I fear my mind, even though I own it.

I fear the dreams without sound.

Can I stand one more night.

A vanguard made of one.

Here they come, they come again.

There is no kingdom come.
Jason C. Cushman

-Opinionated Man



15 thoughts on “Truth

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