Midnight Dream

I remember the dream on that Midnight.
A train passed into my room. Inside my house.
Many came in and out, a bunch of Sheets with inks, some blood.
Some carried golden pens and Letters.
Train named “Dead Poets”, received me that night.
There, a rabbit invites, flutes saddest music.
To welcome.
Passengers inside, busily writing poems, snoring some, some eating pages, and murmuring some,
and exchanging poems,
None bothered, my enter.
A corner,
There a woman, A Dark lady, seated.
Torn breast, bleeding nose, broken fingers and one-eyed and uneven hairs and
Bleeding lips
With Flamingo Feet.
With, the green blood she composes A Song.
The past. Past Her.
“Once, I’m Flamingo, Flamingo From Bacticon, singing All-time,
My Poems pours New Life, says some deads.
All I was a poet. A poet.
I live under Lavender, speak with Sea Horses, I heal them.
All I was a poet, Poet.
Until, Sea Lion captured.
Curse, I become women, covered Black. Women. Ordinary.
Skull cap, bearded, huge the Sealion is,
Threw My Golden Pen to Deep sea,
Squeezed until I bleed,
Break the fingers that writes all night,
One night, It ate all pages, no words left.
Ate all Words, Ate all blood, Ate all Muscles, I have.

I have nothing left.
Nothing left to Sea Lion,
On an Autumn Evening, It, splashed waves and, went deep ocean, along with Lavender garden I
sleep.
Nothing left, Nothing I have.
Sea Lion went, Vanishing me entirely.
Nothing left”
She continued her words.

Been After a decade I wait all nights,
for “Dead Poets” again
To come.
To return her
Golden pen that
I took from
Deep
Sea