Descent to Nowhen

Updated: Jan 29

By Larry Chamberlin, 09 September 2016


As the day returns

to the sea of becoming,

the bed that calls to me

carries emptiness,

save for dreams which lie

with false projections,

as if you'd not flown away.


Two in the morning

drinking decaf again;

hating that king-sized

torture slab of cotton

and memory foam

that gives no comfort.


When you are not here

guarding my present,

ghosts stream by the bed

from pasts that like as not

never really were.


Yet the pull is strong

to lose myself in reverie

like an octogenarian

denying himself potential


I find sight tunnel-visioned

and firmly ensconced

at the rear-view mirror:


"Warning, things may appear

closer to reality than they were."


I need you to call me back to us.


© 09 September 2016 Larry Chamberlin, Chamberlin Law & Mediation

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