These
visions are wasted on me
Wasted
on my infant heart
Discarded
by my limbic system
And
yet every night
I
ride the cursed fairground
Lights
and circles and flashes of
What
Throwaway
monsters
Empty
threats of an approaching life
But
the heart still hits a drum roll
Sending
adrenaline through me
Ice
water in my lungs while
I
sleep
These
bodies are not yet finished evolving
I
think
Otherwise
we would awaken
Into
the morning sun unfettered
Joyous
and without fear.