perception slowly escapes as I lay
entombed in sheets and pillows
the comforting scent of clean
serves up rememberances of childhood
helps relax into slumber

an overhead fluorescent flickers dim light
strobing the darkened room
like flashes of a summer storm
lingering on the edge of perception
miles distant
before even the rain taste can reach
before the air gets heavy

a dream rides forth
and settles in for the night

a old old man
standing in the desert
the noon sun a hammerstroke
that has no end
he wears a simple robe
leans on a thick wood staff

it is just perception
that seperates us from being a dream within a dream
and when that perception fails
they say its maddness

mumbles into his grey beard
in a long dead language
his back bent by
a heavy western wind

gone are the days the old mans family
held him close to their hearts
gone are the salad days when he was loved

now the desert has claimed him

now the desert is his lover,  friend,  his everything