I’m having dreams like fingers around the brain.
Warnings or worries?
They are full of people that walk
With no sense of direction
In circles and circles around each other.

There are never any animals.
There are always sirens or alarms
To remind me that I must safely go
From Point A to Point B.

But there is never a straight line 
From Point A to Point B.
I have to walk in circles and circles
Around myself to find the way.

The sky is always the color of
Having to say goodbye to someone
You know you’ll never see again and
It looms like it’s about to fall.

My sky is imperial purple (#50366F)
And no one ever looks up at it
But me. So I’ve mastered the art
Of saying goodbye to someone and
Seeing them everywhere.

The dreams are full of signs I
Can’t decipher. They’re written
In a soundless alphabet of context
and fleeting images juxtaposed and
Superimposed into a language no
One else can speak.

The afterimages bleed into my waking life
Like fingers around the eyes.
Warnings or worries?
I think I see a man in my peripheral vision
But it’s only a tree.

I decipher with a clenched fist.