Dreams are real confessions

of bad deeds never done,

the ghosts of our obsessions,

our shackles come undone…

 

they are day release concessions

granted unto us at night,

the suspension of repression

to see the evil that we might…

 

do to one-another

if uninhibited and free,

in a world that was some other,

where in darkness we could see…

 

that the light which holds us fast

is the lie we hide behind,

and the mould in which we’re cast

lives in the kingdom of the blind.