My dreams are drowning

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My fingers are solid
Lost in a grappling storm
My age is getting older
As if unfriendly when I argue
The flow of breath is inhibited
Buried with dense dust
I, like a fine pebble in the waves of the ocean
Tub murky leaves thrown wind
The destination direction disappears
Including an increasingly dusk age

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My dream is floated, ran aground on the deep river
Now I'm just floating in the current where the water flows
I hope someday
You came to meet me on the quiet street
Takes me to a beautiful haven of rugs

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@iamrifk