Once upon a borrowed time

revamped combination of old poems with some new lines


We may very well be
nothing but Nobody’s
hammock, spun from
our fates’ weft,
containing experiences
and thoughts that also
dissolve like our organs
and bones, or a candle
that melts and goes out
at Erebus’s feet.
And it might be less
nightmarish than
just being part of a
never-ending dream
identical to reality,
faithful in every detail.

 

© ifyouplease 2019
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critique and comments welcome.

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Alfie_Shoyger
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I suggest “spun” instead of “made”.

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