Poesi: Nighttime is ours

When it gets late
and I close my eyes
My bed sinks in
between space and time.
Between channels and static
dead possibilities are kept in morgues.
There’s always the same room:
No windows,
the electricity hums a dreamy tune,
a gloomy industrial landscape
and forgotten people with blurred faces
tell me I look happier nowadays.
There’s a lively conversation around a dinner table
and we always sit across from each other,
you and I.
In the dream, our eyes finally meet.
I feel like I know you,
but your face always gets distorted
and sometimes your arms bend back.
I think it’s time for me to leave
but you were the one I told my fears to.