The Insomniac’s Dream

The Insomniac’s Dream

When insomniacs dream, it is in complete lucidity
We see the airbrushed edges of the chiseled world
And we fixate on the creativity hidden in the loose paint and unfinished clay
Specifically to de-sculpt the misconceptions and make phoenixes out of them
And to further guard these birds from entrapment and showcasing
We run during the nights to de-cage their constricted
Wings and feathers and talons and beaks
And wait until morning
To secretly see the anger in their masters’ faces
And with that our eyes close and the sun paints the undersides of our eyelids red
The satisfaction is pleasing



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