Mr. Sandman,
why do
convoluted,
non-linear,
temporal dimensions
force us
into irreversible choices?

Forgive
biases,
backfiring
from
blurred vision,
racing
against time's
antithesis.

Metamorphose me
into stylistically arranged
harmonies,
leaping off
the paper plane musical scores,
soaring away
like a child's imagination.

Hatch me,
from worldly confinement,
shaking me
as I unconsciously sleep walk
into a new realm
of pain,
torn apart
like little bags of ******
releasing me
from the puppet master's strings,
leaving my mutilated back
slightly stitched
after exposure
to this metempsychosis

Explore
the inner depths
of your mind,
turning over
every rock,
inspecting every crevice
to find
the metaphysical.