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The imagination of dreams,

while sleeping under a bough .

By Oliver MPublished 6 months ago 1 min read

I saw the stinky sky left me dry while it caught me crying and laughing at my own demise.

Although weary of all things in tow, I need not know.

Where would be my life not now nor tommorow.

How may I act when such cats prey on me,

whence a smile came to my eye then slept like a fly.

There I saw myself in mind's eye, that foggiest brain tried to step on my silliest insanities I could contain.

It imagine me, as not I were the one sleeping,

It took my foot and dragged it

and I awoke with such nerve I smelled the fart

of my own art.

artfact or fictionsurreal poetryperformance poetry

About the Creator

Oliver M

Poetry is my past, the future rolls for no one. I'd rather have her exorcise my past and to entertain as life goes by in this chaotic world.

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