Amist these halls a mist,
A solitaire of phantoms awakening from their dreams,
Saying that I am not real,
Not hence not here.

In the dark,
The pleasantness, peacefulness of my dreams,
The lights off in this familiar place.
Before, so busy, so full of life,
Now so bare,
A baring calmness.

The curve of my lips,
Along with the quark of my eye.
I stand, alone,
In this bear calmness.

I slip out of my shoes and begin to run.
Vit! Vit! Vit!
Past the rooms were learned love so often,
Below the space I worded so often,
Of liquid slow utterance,
A flawless alluring.
It drew me like a picture,
Sketched to none,
Drawn to which known I never knew.
Beautiful in every way;
Words.

I am running,
My legs never tier,
No matter how fast or far, I am not broken.
Amore, amore,
I love this feeling,
In and out of my past, of my dreams.
Leap, jump, yearning ahead.
The air passed whispers of the silence of these halls,
The youth, the laughs, the couples who stand alone,
For all laugh at them,
Yet all are envious of them.
So are each other’s best friend,
And to themselves they are love to the other,
A completion never broken.
Past I run by this wind,
My thoughts themselves flee from me as I reach out my hands,
And begin to dance with the imaginary man.

This phantom of thought,
Though all thoughts are gone,
Is a fancy I dream but yet to not realize,
When I awake to the white of the magnolias.
Background green outside my window, to the sun
I open my eyes,
Yet still in a dream.

I, running towards the door,
Wanting out of this place.
It’s rush of silence bores me now,
I wish for outside adventures beneath my midnight sky.
Out of the doors into the cold.
The cold, the unbarring cold.
It is dark, though unlike the inside.
It claws at me,
Thrashing my face with the wind who once was a whisper.
It freezes me,
Like one frozen in time,
Wishing to awaken, hungry for life.

Swiftness,
Rush of air, of the breath.
But what am I running from?
And where do I go?
For the air is all around me.
Up to the doors, longing for the safer inside,
But they are locked.
A panic, and was I once so content?
The tick of a faraway clock falls in line with the
Sound of my breath against the wind who chases me...
My wide eyes open once again,
To a dawn,
To the end of a dream.