I dream the strangest things.
Sometimes they scare me awake,
While other times I arise in wonder
and fascination.
From where in the darkest abyss of my mind
Are these excavated from?
I’ve dreamt of witches and dragons, fire and murder.
Do they represent the baggage I carry, or just an escape
from a world so tightly bound to reality?
Disguised desires to disease the mind, or the innocence of a child
once misunderstood?
My brain runs free, leaves the earth
Without me being able to tell it to return.
When I try to chain it down,
it always escapes, and so
I dream of things that make you wish
That your dreams never come true.