I saw you yesterday,
over my shoulder,
in a vivid dream,
you were dead;
symbolism,
surely.
The soul sickness,
strikes at me again,
with it's weary eyes,
drained, dead face,
gangly, toxic hands.
Deadly,
overwhelming,
it eats me like fire,
my thoughts are ashes,
floating freely on the winds,
thick with change and new life.
Andy Veilleux 
When I pair this with your other post today…I see the image of watching people moving through their daily routines with no emotions or concerns of what their actions my bring about…very power set of poems.
Thanks, it’s tough to see people without passion.