Ours

Think about the shadow of work
All our lives we were there
Just as in love
We were under someone’s shadow
Long dark scroll of hair
On the nape of a neck
When we visited the ocean we stared at it
From long rows of metal chairs
We were an army of the paralyzed
It was okay to be obliterated by wincing blue light
Is the hawk passive as it flies
Looking for blood to become hunger
Our dreams wonder to themselves
While we are asleep and paralyzed
In between asking themselves
If we are the real ones
If we are the real thieves

 

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The Terror of Waking Up

I like the way language always feels like.
It is getting somewhere. It feels
like waking up. Getting lighter. The smack of dawn.
Against your back.

The dream that ends when you wake up.
Is not insignificant. Think.
It is like an airplane
going down. Because you woke up.
All those unreal people you were.
Just dreaming.

They are suddenly on a plane going down
because you have to go to work.

You senseless monster, go back to sleep.

Save them.

Rescue their unreality!

Your boss will understand.