Methadone Dreams

I fight to let go of the past 

but it haunts my dreams

I cannot relinquish this addiction on my own.

There is no sequence of steps, no support group, 
no ritualized speech for dreamers.

There are only these dreams

day dreams which pale against the dream I had.

They take the edge off the ache.

Perhaps soon I shall need them less and less.
Yet even methadone is addictive.
I don't want to wake from these dreams.

What Dreams May Come

I dream the life I could have had
for I know not how to dream the life I will have. 

Yet I have decided to live in hope,
for I shall live
and I choose how I shall live.

I choose hope and not despair. 

I wait...

Neither Dead Nor Alive

I have a dream that will not die.

It will not stay buried.

It is neither dead nor alive.

It remains as some undead thing,

haunting me.

In truth I do not wish it gone.

I would that there were flesh on those bones

and Spirit within

breathing life

into mouldering dreams.

I am haunted by a ghost

that I have not the will to exorcise.

I am haunted

by a dream that will not die.

Price of Dreams

I can see so clearly 

the world 

as I would have it.

The Torah of love would be fulfilled.

The only debts, love-debts, paid in full

with a superfluity of abundance.

I can't afford to dream anymore. 

Or perhaps I simply can't afford these dreams.

They are too expensive;

their currency is much more than tears.

Pain on waking; pain in waking.

Ragged wounds from trying to hold disparate realities together.

I cannot make the realities I conjure come to pass.

Each effort costs something more;

more than I can pay.

This is expensive magic.

There is power in imagining.

But the power is not mine,

I don't have access to it.

Yet I see it so clearly.

I continue to dream...