Dreams Dreading Reality

Why are such extraordinary measures
being taken to hide facts from us, my friends.

Some, wander about in the early morning,
searching for identity with 280 characters,
others gaze upon their nakedness in darkened rooms.

In our dreams,
creaky old elevators descend to basement facts,
mop and bucket reality
reminding our denial what’s upstairs
before the up button is pushed
with a sigh of resignation.

Rising early-dawn skies
illuminate the city silence before us,
everything in stop-motion,
rooftops and water towers,
clouds frozen in wisps of white smoke.

After so many years,
we’re told to be patient,
extend ones slender arm,
feed the pigeons the essence of angel cake,
that layered innocence being strangled by
the voracious appetite of deception.

Such are the dreams dreading reality.