Triplets in my head
Pills on my mind
Politics in my brain

Although dreams from two days ago
Have begun to fade
Still I am horrified at the
Depth, detail and genius
of places I went that night

A warren of art, magic and passion
Webs of storyboard images spun
From molten metals
Like cartoon spiders answering God

Of smokes and touches
Wary interpretations of
How things should be
versus how they are

The point of decompression
Can only be found in the memories
Of dreams to make reality envious
If my brain can do that
I prefer sleeping