If I ever woke up in a surreal world I would saunter into my sister’s room With luminescent eyes and detached limbs And feign as if it were the way of life I’ve come to known and held as true
Then as she'd collapse into an outburst of tears Her fractured reality abstracted to a menace Her sister—me, glowering, conjured too In a world where meaning is defunct, horrifying, lonely I would laugh, because that’s what sisters do.