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Evasive Dreams

I love it, first in the morning
If the coffee is black and strong
I love it if I get at least one more.
In the bustle, I love the sight 
Of rich architecture scattered across
Of succinct poetry from nowhere 
A fine book I had read decades ago.
Amidst the hustles, some bad poetry
And abundant predictable pieces.
After dusk, engulfed and withdrawn,
I love it if it's whiskey or anything
That makes me forget the misery 
We all live together in this world. 
When badly drunk, I want no dreams
No recollections, not even the reality.
Ah, life, longer you live, harder you try
We are either victim of vanity within reach
Or the far-fetched evasive dreams.

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