Dreams Do Come True When You’re Asleep


I slammed against the exterior side casings
That centered the door frame
Braced myself on aged wood
As sight,
Gave Up the Ghost-
And wrinkled knuckles
Became memories.

“Don’t black out,” I said.

But collapsed with my forehead
Striking the edge of a side jamb
Alerting blindness
That it wasn’t time for censorship.

Joe strolled in through the front entrance
Searing tobacco,
Framing the air
With a scent of reliable death.

“You alright?” He questioned.
“Yeah, just almost blacked out.”
“Why?” He said.
“I don’t know,” I replied
Discovering balance
Like an ambitious paraplegic.

Minutes later,
Unaffected by vertigo
I sat down at a tax funded computer,
At the local library
Decided to check the news.

The explanation for the blackout
Retained a bit of clarity
As I read the announcement:
Scott Walker to Suspend Campaign.

The intelligence of the body
Develops a Sixth Sense
To be harmonious with the universe
When splendid information
Presents itself.

Mine was just preparing me by saying:
“You’re going to want to sit down
As I tell you this…”

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