Dream Beings

Soundless sleepers are handled with extreme caution
The gears in their head are in constant motion
Dreaming up their own imaginative creations
Refusing to hand them over to the corporations
They treat them instead as works of art
Some speckled and blotchy at the start
The grinding of gadgets and iron in their heads
A conveyor belt of the things they have dreamt

Each little monster is tattooed a new name
An identity to keep as they turn down the lane
And walk under street light into the new world
one where they’ll make realism unfurl into
chaos and madness and skewed television reports
they’re being called up for jury to enter the courts
and tattle tale on some strangely made fellow
because his horns are too sharp and teeth to yellow

the posters soon surface of public beware there are
murderers afoot seeking harm and, how fair is it
citizens run and scream for help when one being’s
too startled and lets out a yelp for fear of the pitchforks
and dangerous things, the sirens and likeness of demons
with wings, and they dash back to safety, back into our minds
and pull up the covers and try to rewind the madness of
people and all of their quirks, so they pull all the plugs until

nothing works.

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