wasteland
a. scott samson
Somewhere dreams go to die.
Somewhere they flicker their last.
Somewhere Dreams go and mix together before dying.
In this wasteland of the concious
In this wasteland of of the day
In this dreamless torture
we mourn our dying dreams
Somewhere dreams are dying
dancing round the pyre
somewhere dreams are laughing and screaming and breathing their last . . .
I want to go there because it sounds like paradise
I want to leave this wasteland
I want to be where my dreams dance afire . . .
A poem for the weekend
a. scott samson
Somewhere dreams go to die.
Somewhere they flicker their last.
Somewhere Dreams go and mix together before dying.
In this wasteland of the concious
In this wasteland of of the day
In this dreamless torture
we mourn our dying dreams
Somewhere dreams are dying
dancing round the pyre
somewhere dreams are laughing and screaming and breathing their last . . .
I want to go there because it sounds like paradise
I want to leave this wasteland
I want to be where my dreams dance afire . . .
A poem for the weekend
atarianpunk:
Cool poem dude. I wanna leave the wasteland myself maybe it'll happen sometime soon. 
