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what dreams live inside your skin

i wonder

are they twin or perhaps cousin to mine

do they giggle + slink murmur into

the middle of a sunsoaked algebra class

dancing around decimals to bestow upon you

the vibrant violet chimera of crush fantasy

do they rise + surge darkly overhead

red raw viscerally surreal

until all you can do is howl + sprint

searingly across bare blistering fields

are they born from haughty, haphazard Chance

primly sifting through the Sandman’s file cabinet

maybe they are all part of the standard

subliminal messaging from your resident guardian angel

or even the prolonged patchwork evolution

of a sunken shipwrecked spirit set adrift

whatever they are, without them

there’d be less wonder

in a wonder-starved world


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