visions of a blind man

I close my empty sockets and I see again, I know that this is a dangerous thing to do, because I know what it will lead to, but I don’t care. A life with some colour and memories haunting me is better than a sad life without meaning.

I see a blurred meadow, with vivid lavender and strong green grass and as I focus more it becomes clearer. My mother appears out of the shrubbery surrounding the meadow, crouches and cries at the bloodstains in the grass. She looks down at my sticky dark hair and screams out in agony.

As I curl with pain at the sight of my mother like this I try to get away from the horror but it is fixed. I have to let this play out until the end.

I wake up and stare at the blue ceiling.

“What a dream” I quietly moan