Dreams are bursting
out,
popping.
With a subtle hint of
Phosphorus.
It’s a conundrum.
To hold onto the past,
while promising the
future.
That you’ll be there.
Forever.
The way it goes
is strange to say the least.
Delving
into slight madness.
Life’s tongue
in your cheek.
Who is truly holding
the strings to
this show?
Showcasing
fact into
folklore.
Unleashing the imagination.
Warping  what we believed,
what we thought,
sensed,
touched,
felt.
Wishing the penny could be flipped
once again
into the well.
This count down
begins at sunrise.
It never progresses.
Like the light at
the end of the tunnel.
Exploding into fire
and a cloud of
haze.