I cannot breathe.
I cannot see.
My hands are red.
Cold, wet, like ink from a ball point pen.

Softly swaying
back & forth,
eyes gently closing
My pulse is dead.

My body on the floor.
A cold breeze blows my hair
into my face.
Suddenly my chest begins to rise.

I feel the blood running through my body.
Beging to feel once more.
I lay awake in my bed,
Realizing all was but a dream.

Although,
It feels as though it all happend,
A note lies next to me.
I reach for it as though life depended on it.

Unfolded it gently,
as it read:
Is this what you want?
Your future like this?
All that you see from now on
is but a dream.

Moments later
everything became cold, wet, & red.
I looked at my hands
Slowly wrapping into a ball.

I reached for the phone,
but I was a breath too short.
All I see
Is now a dream...