Living in the Blur Between Lucid Dreams and a Slipshod Reality

by DBLevin

slapping you silly
with my severed mobility
you gawk at awkward engravings
the oscillations of a lost society
the masturbations of transparent sobriety
the killing floor was no place
for your mockingbird requirements
the world was birthed at the empty imaginations
of a man in a train station
and as he inhaled
music exploded from the masonry