The sound of crickets,
a reminder of perfection and purpose
existing as equals stitched to reality,
calls to me before I leave night behind
and forget day exists..
I had a dream and it was real,
everything was bursting color from
its seams and spewed rainbow pricks
into our swollen faces,
into our eyes and cheeks,
puncturing crusts of madness
and breaking folds of insanity,
allowing us to breathe again
like we should.
I had a dream, it seemed so real.
There were clouds too...