Dreams Left On Read

Leftmost painting: Zim Syed

Paintings on left wall: Ariel Xiu

Other paintings: Luis Zul

Space: Moon Saloon

Dreams left on read

don't leave scars in

hardwood floors

Their oxygen

fastly, barely escaping

from the cracks 

of glass sky ceiling tiles

Condense into acid clouds

who weep cleansing

iron statues

chipping petals of gold

The glittery sediment

stamps on the soles of my feet

paste as I unravel with pirouettes 

and dips

quickly forgetting that I

have hands on my arms

and a head on my shoulders.

The ankles of Pegasus boots

flutter, lift off ever so slightly

forming cyclones of petals

with the fragrance of dining tables

from halls pungent, ancient

with the desires of green men

and shaking the room

like lovers at the peak of their

feverish glares.

A sigh in catharsis

pulls the breaks on the feet

from its ritual of interdimensional gravity.

The fingertips grasp at the air

thick with electricity

unclear whether it's from

the rise of the sun

or the collapse of

what I always wanted

but could never be

what I always wanted to be

but never to be seen.

Clouds never reach the ground

for they don't have enough experience

of walking on their feet

so they barely touch it,

fearing it'll disintegrate

like the feeble, fickle dreams

of men who fall on drooped knees.