Our dreams are not linear.
We live terrible lives in the dark of night.
As the brakes screech over and over. I see you sitting next to me.
As the glass breaks over and over. I hear you telling me goodbye.
These soft sheets yield dark lives in the terrible of night.
Golden honey sticks and butterfly wings.
Fractals of the truth.
Another knife digs into my abdomen. I hear you whisper goodbye.
Another tube goes down my throat. I see you sitting next to me.
Just a peak of light slowly creeps into the muscles of my mind.
As I begin to wake,
the wings flap one last time.