Charles Bonnet Syndrome

the night we never slept
i mulled
the images the blind might dream
your neck clipped my lips
what is color to cadaverous eyes-
it is this.
sleep was never so futile
yes, swung the answer
we dream in images
I still held the full moon
somehow she'd grown dusty
grown different
but in fact,
she'd always been powder
and providence
as I'd been ricochet
and imprudence
awake, still we woke to bedshake
or is it all a dream we share
and the earthquake
was my silent prayer
cuss of another time ahead
this is how I dream of us
in images I've never known
colors vivid and new
but mostly
in braille for eyelids
each kiss a syllable of yes
but mostly
in wait and see
in clasp the non sense.