The Somnium Hyperbole

The movements of your


Scare me. You never know what might


You are not always in charge.

I think and you speak.

There is no parachute in-between.

I look upon your face and imagine your voice,

What you might say and

The shapes of the words

Become monsters in my head.

I cannot rely on my mind

And the conflict it creates.

Your body drags its weight

Across my imagination like

A thunder that never recedes.

It has nothing in common

With the lightheartedness of the real

Thing, your body, your intentions.


Why does my mind think that it is

Necessary to

Visualise you with such


Is it saying to me

That I can’t see you


For what you are,

For what I am to you?


“Mother of Zorka” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)



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