Imagine a world in dreams
where living was just a

passing thought in an afternoon daydream
but living would feel eternally dizzy-durzy

wrong and you wake into another
fake imaginarium of your own.

Images of buildings split into
three, hang from string in the

sky, tilting upside down down down
into black misted black.

And you’ll keep going back there
hoping for more but all you’ll

find is another joke on you,
naked in a street full of faces.


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