The night oppresses my regretful mind
until perception of a dream can start-
I soon behold relationships enshrined
in galleries of existential art.
I haven't managed friendships very well,
and ego shares so much of useless blame,
past comrades speak in voices keen to tell
that guilt produced the man that I became.
Artistic walls of confidantes profess
remorse is human, letting you rebound.
I try to wake myself, without success;
my friends in vivid colors gather round.
The walls become a ceiling's lucid hues,
a dreamt relief when clashing with the blues.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.