The dream.

A memory of something I’ve yet to see.
This counterfeit reality that introduces myself to me.

In a hive shaken madly by vexed tenants of expectancy.

Darkness provides decampment from the blanket shaken hands have woven.
From behind closed lenses, chimerical possibilities open.

But whether my consciousness is painted in black or in white,
Can I truly validate that either is right?

xoxo, k.

4 thoughts on “The dream.

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