i dreamt black again.

the recurring dream of weeks past,

the only ecchymosis left behind by

nocturnal struggles is the unaccountable

smell of freshly cut fir

i bear in my nostrils.

i want to know what will be

left behind after

the ephemeral erection turned into

a mass of flaccid meat

is inhumed in

a abyss of ripe soil.

could it be that then

we can traverse the seas

we've never seen?

is the world ours then?

it is or not, irrelevant.

how can we dream after

we've given our last breath

in the big race?