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...