it could be an adventure through outer space
inhaling poison gasses and sneezing constellations into place
while scattering the dusty footprints on the planets
riding on the toxic waves of acid tangents

or a trip through the Atlantic in an orange submarine
falling in love or laughing until our eyes bleed
watching life in the real world from afar
under sea level and into his arms

it could be a trek in the forrest in my dreams
picking black wildflowers and catching sunset beams
sleeping under cotton-candy clouds
his broken voice fills my heart and pungent sound

it could be sleeping with the fishes or bathing in mushroom clouds
jumping into the end of the world without fear or doubt
the apocalypse is upon us now
ignoring the protests and the crowds and the shouts

and he and i would be an impossibility
just like all of these other things