Horizons Of The Mind

Horizons Of The Mind 

By Paul McCann

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Sitting here likes porcalene waiting for the paint to dry and there’s a face looking at me in the corner of my eye .

Feeling just like plasticine , on a shelf away up high and there’s a queue outside the shop suspended from the sky .

I’ve slipped through a crack in time on horizons of my mind , what ever lies beyond a dream I’m trying hard to find .

Nothing means anything and no one knows anymore  , what to do 

for the lonely people living in a dream.

Fishing from a submarine , in a sea that has run dry ,   dreams  are all caught in empty  nets  and fish  fall from the sky  .