I had a dream
I awoke to my own
I made it out of a never-ending hallway where
truckers bore down on my back, I
saw the morning through a crack in the woodwork
I could breathe the air,
lay out over the trees below me
if so tangible, vivid, how not was it real?
who is to say these illusions aren't physically palpable
a photo etched over in pencil, grainy
my hands were soft and drawn
but when you wake up in a place where you sleep
you open your eyes