The Dream

Sometimes we die in the dream
The snow falls quietly
We have lived in the hurt a long time
The distance is growing
While there are no more tears
The emptiness remains
The haplessness fills nothing

I am trapped inside
I am spinning into oblivion
I need to be franchised again
But there is no commerce
Amid the hustle and bustle nothing
I need to go down stairs
I need to feel the sun on my face

My Orange cat loved me
In all of that
And I loved him
But he died
This is the only genuine memory
The rest is stilted
It is unreal horror