A Loss

A lurid feeling is all I know I have
A grain of sand that can not make glass
A disease that bites deep, latches on and preys

What is revealed in dreams is primarily the being of instinct
"Being" may be said to return in it's dreams to a state of nature

The less one's mind has been invaded by acquired ideas the more it stays drunk in dreams by impulses of a perverse stature

Maybe in the solace of an imaginary savior a being can find the hope to go on
Humanity is a strong as a fraying rope, the world is not a beautiful place