Surrealism, a step from the reality we all face
It peers from under sleepy eyelids in the form of dreams
I, however, do not dream
Motionless black is all that I am granted
The psychological bounds are grainy at best
I see no rocks, mounds, structures of earth, not even white noise
I admire those who can see beyond imagination
Whether maniacs or artists they stand tall in my mind
I don't move or breathe I am frozen in waste