Armchair and a Book

The voice of the trees singing sweetly, Their mother caressing them gently, Wisps of hair fly over my face Soothing sleep my eyes doth kiss. A distant drilling machine rumbling, The tinkling of cycle bells. Caw Caw.  The vicious acquaintance is Here to announce his loud presence. Instrumental music on the TV, A delicious aroma wafting about, Lost in thought over an assignment. The pencil rolled over, And I bent over to pick it up. The trees singing sweetly.

I have my dreams, Been deciphering codes. Reading signs, Semiotics told me that I had to tune in To my thoughts in disarray, I did. Psychedelic petite notices flashed by. Day and Night.. The dreams are recurring, Seeing signs everywhere. I wake up, gasping for breath, Paranoia strikes. Quarter life crisis? No family fortunes bequeathed, No luxury cars. The brooding Hamlet has to amorphize. Ghosts from the past beckon, They are waving, making catcalls, Then roar away cursing, unheeded. Newer ghosts swoop in, 'Will you be or not be?' they jeer. Diamond icicles multiply. Breathing constricts. Hamlet sits up straight In bed.