In Between Dawn and Dusk

Dreams, like jail grunts,
Encage your mind.
Sometimes torturing it
Beating it bloody to the point of unconsciousness
Bruising until far past black and blue.
Feeding it rumors;
The dirt.
Chains and shackles,
A ball dragging at the end:
The ticking time bomb or clock
Until the time has been served.
And then the mind is released
On house arrest
During the time
In between dawn and dusk.