It seems, I much prefer my dreams
though times of consequence pass fleetingly.
It seems, I know while in those very dreams
of all that passes in between.
Matching my realities to messages
left within the ‘seems’ of fear and fantasy and light
of the umbilicus cord which snaps when I’m affright.
Yes, I’d say it often seems,
I’m so a home when wrestling with my dreams.
The I sees “I” , and oft compresses screams
Munch-like in hues of blue and green
on bridges to the nowhere and in-betweens,
ear-covering, muffling, silent screams.
Mesmerized, am I, by what can be,
reality dissolves within the ever-after seams.
Clocks melt, trees morph to faces, Dali emotes
tattle-tailing signs that float on reels
in rooms off kilter, windows bricked without.
Can you hear me?
Can I hear me, shout?
I’m right here, I just asleep
Please let me out!