I must be dreaming

This can't be real

I am lying on my bed

Bed sheets pristine and white


Drenched in my sweat

The moon beaming down at me

The planets glowing green on my ceiling

Spiraling, a miniature universe

And at the count of 3

I will awake


and maybe this empty shell

brown and cracked

scarred by violence

will be nothing but a bad dream

and the flowers will bloom

and the birds will sing


and maybe this dead eye would

stop staring

bloodshot and crushed

screaming at my trespass

and maybe it could see

the black clouds that choke the skies

and shed a tear for the mourning


and maybe the maggots will turn to butterflies

and carry me on their wings

and they will love me

when love has died

where guns are toys

and cruelty is the game we play


and I will wake up

and it will be nothing but a dream

a figment of my imagination

planted by a falling angel from a dying world

and it will be nothing

and I will be safe


staring at the miniature universe on my ceiling

wishing that I could live there