"Do you know my poetry" - Dead Man

the world doesn't dream of itself,
so who is,
when living awake feels like one.
nothing of a noetic structure
not even a poetic rupture
to explain the rift in my senses
from the grass, stairs, fence
a body and a drink
and of that which is in my head

I am here, you there
and delibly apart
still I can't make sense of it.
and the longer I try
it all becomes more faded into the
grey ocean
until there's nothing left to be.