Ditching the Sepia Tones

Waking up in foreign lands,

sands of crime sifting downstream,

into my teeming, swimming mind.

Sepia color serpentined, swerved and swirled,

zooming in, momentarily,

on a swarthy toned figure from disciplined sun-touch and tell.

How to break loose from this frame of odd illusion?

How to find meaning in this situational protrusion?

It’s simply a dream that won’t last forever,

the roosters crow will eventually sever.

Ride out the odd aspects of it all,

and dream bend if you can’t stand it altogether.

Wrestling with spirits in a bed of sweat,

I’ve just got to wake up yet!