Time To Pick-Up the Kiddo
I am your dreams
Curled up in a ball.
Napping vicious dreams,
Crouched against the wall.
Oh the stoic stares at dovetailing dreams.
Throw your fryer in the briar.
May the mist tear your eyes.
You haven't cried in months.
Bleep out all dull colors,
Let the celluloid solitude remain a-drip.
You are your heart's keeper.
Tend to your first original light.
The all-possible pulsar of our lives.
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