Colour blindness

I want to distance myself from my dreams
the ones that I held on to
ever since I was five
those that slipped quietly
into my sub-conscious
when I was drifting through my early life
because now they’re piercing into
my bosom
and bleeding my heart

I want to distance myself from my dreams
because they have constantly
betrayed me
left me alone
and been obstinate
about coming to life
like embers on a cold wintry night

I want to distance myself from my dreams
because every time
I held on to them to
bring them to life
they took a chunk of me
and never gave it back
sometimes splitting myself
into three parts
throwing each fragment in a unrecognizable
lanes which welcomed me
only to gnaw at my soul some more

I want to distance myself from my dreams
and be selfish for once
so that they know I am not easy
so that they know they’re not invincible
I created them, after all
And in the process,
if I forget them, abandon them,
or cheat on them,
I won’t be sorry. And if ever they should ask,
I can say, “You took too long.”

I want to distance myself from my dreams
because when I hold them close
reality escapes from my fingers
because they suffocate my judgement of
how to get by
because my meals can’t be bought anymore
and even if I do,
my mouth is dry of crying
and I cannot eat

I want to distance myself from my dreams
because every time I cried
they laughed at my weakness
and accused me of making too much noise
so much so that
they refused to move
no matter what I did
no matter how hard I loved them
no matter how courageous I was
no matter how lonely
or how tired

I want to distance myself from my dreams
because they broke me
like no one else did
they ignored me
because every time I took parts of them
and brought them to life
they blinded me
and left me with little appreciation
of the palette around me

I want to distance myself from my dreams
because I lost myself
my people, and even my material possessions
one by one
pawning what belonged to me
to fuel
the strokes in my dreams,
the outlines or the lack of it,
and the smudges that make them authentic
only to be left colourblind at the end of it all