Dreams
Without dreams we are empty hulls,
shells of humanity, the stripping away of the body
to live our reality.
Seeing ourselves from the top side of a magnifier,
picking up the specimen, squeezing its girth,
turning it over, seeing what happens
when you throw it against a brick wall,
what it’s really worth.
Nobody wants to see who they really are,
but we can’t lock ourselves in,
cannot change the channel and watch, mindless shows.
The day we discover the remote control, for our dreams
is the day of never-ending screams.
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