I sleep in this bed and run all the places in my mind- it feels like a circus performance in here-

Gravel roads and white fences with adventures of knights and brooks and tiny dew drops on popcorn popsicles made by the gnomes of pickadilly pines-

Crop circles do exist but I've never seen one...

Caterpillars would be nice right now but I envision the green ooze secreting from the trampled lifeless form-

In retrospect it can or cannot  be what it is not?- to look back in thought; refer back-

Are we all gamblers waiting and watching then perceiving the next place we build out of sticks and bricks?

I go back to my slumber-  Pickadilly Pines