my sweetest sanctuary
of wishful thinking, and
only to fulfil them, as without
my fears, insecurities and undesirable
lust under hidden eyelids

i can create worlds in materials
of imagination. destroyed by
the wakes of time

i am free, though a slave to
mind pictures not often in my control

i rehearse my life before the act
of playing into this reality

i find healing in the abstract pictures
fixed into the brokenness of life
experiences

i am lost in a comfort; the converting
characters i create from reality's former

for the day only allows me
a moment's daydream
—but the night has so much more
to offer

                               ...i am a dreamer