Dreams as vivid as reality, my bodies lying on the bed as my mind soars causally.

In a wooden house with strangers equivalent to Dorothy's

I look outside the window I see waves of the open seas.

But were not in the ocean see, because pirates are never seen. I swear this is a different scene. If you could see it, you would believe.

But I'm not here to prove that it's nonfiction, let these words be a depiction of dreams that have been driven.

By Purposes filled in vials then consumed by minds made by miles, roads, and directions styled

in shuttering accents, enough of this madness lets jump into passions.

Engraved in my soul is the past-tense...if nothing's new under the sun,
then let my shade be a labyrinth