I had such big dreams,
I could have built cities out of them,
lined each street with cherry blossoms
that were always in bloom.
A million personalities walking beneath them
and I knew every one like family,
and we’d all stop and talk for a little while,
grab a coffee, chat about the universe
and how much smaller it seemed to be getting.

That’s all dreams are, though,
sitting in your head like grotesques,
******* out another reason to be happy
when you’re sitting alone in the dark.
They feed off the serotonin
and keep eating it all up
until you feel sorry for yourself
and wait for the next grotesque dream
to get you through the night.