Since joining the army I have stopped dreaming

Sleep is disappearing into the black
Mouth of a gasping carp. Even the anxious
Mind stops jittering at some point, out of
Steam the way soda fizzles to a calm 
Glass when left to itself long enough. Without
Food the squirming surface stills, all the
Fishes turn away into the mindless depths
I choose to drown in. 

People no longer live in my mind, they became
Dolls when the desire to playhouse outgrows the
Child, stowed in a dusty box. No more magical
Stages play acting embarrassments and
Attachments that makes me squirm into the
Pillow, no more churning out heart pounding
Dramas for the scriptwriter has retired from
Imagination and the world of sadness and
Dragons. Just the deep quiet suspension of the
Night spitting me out with a sunrise.

Now I got to sleep, illiterate of the landscape within
Me, losing the sparkle of youth and the immense
Exuberance for rewriting the narrative.
I no longer dream, waiting for the future in suspense.