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.