For how long will darken darkness
Continue to deceive me
Of a longer but shorter season
Of a dead -sleep?

What a costly timid trade?
Dream at Dawn while mission at night
When my legs are masked on bed
Like a grease over a punctured-tyre.

I woke up so strongly like a penis
Of a youth at early hours of the day
But flummoxed like a chicken
Thrown into a night swallowed by rain.

Mine was a fatherless dream
Like a posthumous whose father
Is a permanent guest in a limbo.

Flabbergasted! I asked
When will mine be a dream?
For dawn needs dine and not dreams
Now I have to open my eyes unblinded and
Rise and see the vision and forget the dream
Which tasks me to search for sun at dawn
And obliviate me of the duties of the day....
Hmmmmmmm.... I sighed.