Dreamscapes
Clocks tick on old, wooden walls
shelves of books line the room
suede elbow patches rest on chairs
part of the suit that plays host to
men of distinction
stories as lavish as their clothing
tobacco smoke billowing
fantasies constructed in the ephemeral clouds
Toys are tinkered in shops
carvings are made
the shop keeper closes up
pulls her hole-riddled jacket snugly
against her body
and starts home
following no footprints
she manages to reach her front door
shuddering, shivering, and sniffling
she sinks into a cushioned chair
and dreams of a better life
Children stand attentive
pressed and grilled by authority-figures
made to feel despicable
tears stream down like tributaries
bending and flowing
filling up the pockets of their tortured souls
dreaming to leave, mentally able to do so
not physically though
just dreams
A hidden village
deep within a jungle
a community
one that which
looks out for one another
rites of passage
communion with some great divine
hunters & shamans
speak only the language
of plants and music
feverishly wondering
if the collective consciousness
the great spirit
is just dreaming all of this up
If we're going to
live
we might as well
live our dreams...
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