it was ever real

somewhere between dreams and death, i find my wishes granted.
somewhere along the edge of me, i find my heart enchanted
by a spell of arresting charm and reservoirs of feeling,
where life is found in moments, and they leave my senses reeling.
every part of me is dying; all my lusts, her eyes are stealing.

i shout, and silence echoes; i whisper, 'here i stand,'
yet my footing isn't sure, for i dance upon the sand.

i dance upon the shifting sands that scorch the skin and sear the soul.
i writhe in pain as dust attacks my eyes like freshly kindled coal.

i gasp my last as i start to drown.
i float in a dark and peaceful sea.
i scream with joy as the moon goes down.
i trade my grin for a guarantee-

of new life begun.
of hope reborn.
of a glimpse of the sun.
of a single thorn-

from a rose, tossed down from a balcony.
from a rose, which never belonged to me.
from a rose, who dared to kiss the grey.
from a rose, that doesn't care to say-

what color, her petals?
what strength, her stem?
what depth, her roots?
what price, her gem?

i have no wealth, save memories,
(and memories fade, like clouds in a bleak desert sky).
i have no strength, save hope in dreams.
(and who hopes in dreams, when dreams so easily die?)

yet some dreams refuse to pass away,
thus the life i have is just a ghost
of the life that i once knew;
and some say, "you have no prayers to pray.
though the eyes of gods see more than most,
all their ears are turned from you."

when i come to the end, i find a chest.
it is made of stone, and locked with steel.
i reach for the key that was given to me,
and realize: it was never real.

was it ever real?