as i was dreaming

melancholy is gnawing
the world it seems is slowly spinning
and here i am
like someone stretched
on top of a groaning black swevil chair
my head falling back
while my head slightly kicking the floor
pushing the chair with my body
the chair rotating steadily
as the wailing song of the piano
plays on
failing to awaken my soul
deep in slumber
in my head
i see storm
rain dripping
thunder bellowing
water spreading over the earth
black clouds stooping in gloom
over it
its not quite night yet
its not daybreak either

here i am spinning images in my head
as notes pour on
casting spells over me
telling me not to sleep
and yet
cradling me in pastural peace
as if im a child again
nestled safely
in someone's comforting bosom

here i am buried in a cold world
trapped in a dream called life
on a spinning top i lay
dreaming of a land far away
a world in fantasy...