Objects Pretend Too
Fire and light explode in my imagination
The dark forests float above my head
Grainy pictures fill my eyes with wonder
And guise my mind with blur
Nothing makes sense anymore
Nothing is real
My pen is not my pen
But a twig drawing words in the dirt
Which pretends to be my paper
My desk is a flat rock
In the middle of my floating forest
Everything around me changes
More often than not
It quickly evolves into something real
Something like a mirage
Something it wants to be
My coconut changes to a coffee cup
My book with cow-hide binding
Changes into a hard cover book
One with fancy colours and pictures
Everything in my world wants to be
something it's not
Even the people aren't real
They are really trees that think they
are people
Swaying branches imitate swaying arms
The trees want to un root and dance
They want to dance wildly like a person
One day I will wake from this nightmare
And return to the world that is real
No languid expressions
No rocks pretending to be desks
No sticks wanting to be my pen
I want the real thing
I want to be loved