In my dreams
I visit familiar houses
just to hear familiar voices.
I see things like
rocks and trees
taking over dining rooms
with too many doorways…
And small scale
technical TV’s
with lizards living
behind their screens.
I talk to people
sitting inside walls
Knitting.
We talk about
baseball games
they watched on
those reptile TV’s.
People without faces
that would have
familiar faces.
If they had faces.
Their eyes out of focus.
And voices I’m drawn to
so I follow and talk to..
But I can never keep up with.
Voices I make plans with.
Because blurry eyes never lie…
When I want to leave
they won’t let me.
Door knobs I can’t grab.
Doors that move on their own.
Windows that lead to windows.
Whispers I can’t ignore.
Whispers I won’t ignore..
Whispers I should ignore.
The only way out is to wake up.
A real life concept in the shadowlands..
And when I wake up
I spend an hour sorting out
what was real and what was an
Illusion.
Tribe Of Flannel 