I crawled into bed, hoping to find that subconscious fix behind my eyes.
My head it hovers over scenary unknown of a utopia that I made when I was just 4 years old.
Color is rare, but spirits are high as I sore across these imaginary lines,
being no stranger to this free falling land, I let my heart whisper of it’s demands.
He listened and cryed alongside the hopeless stutter that speaks of a life much cluttered than others.
So he hovered along, scheming the snatching,
of a heart thats not one for catching.
Just as he reached for the unattainable gift, my eyes started bouncing and my heart skipped a beat, which made my utopia all just a dream.
-M
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