Waking Poem 2

what a ride
what a ride
endless dream after dreams.
dream becoming another dream
dream that never ends
halls stair wells and little doors of your imagination 
you chase the witch
she is down there she is down there

focusing on sensation proves the surest path to pleasure
pleasure is intense and realistic
in a dormitory

a blob of ink that hits the page and shatters
into one hundred colorful consciousnesses
some wobble and wane as others burst forth
the name of the game is

you are more than one
you are not alone
within you without
and within you become
multitudinous

oh my
oh my

these friends joined the beds with me

and were alarmed at my unending slumber
careening to the valleys of dream
at times beautiful in others
the terror was so much as to jolt me from sleep
the clamor
the building sensation of fear as suddenly im shot shot
again im shot in my own driveway
for not having any cannabis
im brought down

conquered.

intense and delightful
spears and swords
mirrors on walls
who are we and where

the big house
explore my new environs
nyc out on the street
finding myself in a new scene
its newly realistic - #repainted
look what they did with the place
the magical hall ways are full of signs

i want something different
tired of the same orgiastic pulse

brought my little potted plant army here
along for the ride
they are passengers now on my dream ship

this ship only gives way to fire
and theres no horizon it cannot cross my
dream sheep
asleep in a dream within a dream

all of of us organized oddly in the beds
two here, three in that one
he kindly lets me know im exposed

little greasing of the wheels
oh no no nobody nothing compares to that 
funky splendor that one two cupcake
that here you are and yank you different
i can fall asleep easily
feeling that odd rush that teleports us back
into the dream context
that deeper rush
dreaming within a dream

i might be human
but the coffee im drinking 
came from the dream world

my hand lifts as if by a ghost
and it is moved to write a poem