(I couldn’t sleep…)

This is what dreams are made of.
This is what nightmares are afraid of
Being brought to light
Freedom from the imprisonment of a mind that associates liberty with slumber

Rapid eye movement when my spirit and mind are free
Pupil number three learning the responsibility of the power my mind wields.
My body must be still
Heart slowed
To capture my creativity as loud as my snoring
As obnoxious as it is
It’s uncontrollable
But this is a sign I’m at peace

Don’t wake me.
The dream is too good.
The nightmare is cowering in the glow of my spirit like it should
Can you see them?
The words in my pupils
Learning from my irises to add color to make them unique.
This is what happens
When writing keeps me awake.