Oxygen dreams





Hear the vision humm in your minds eye, painting crimson moons of colour for there is trouble when we wake the cyclops that sleeps. The mind is hungry for a challenge, words leave an imprint like tattooe, the weak ones are smoke dancing in and out like belly dancers, strong words become form they are commitment taking shape building stature, then evolving further.You orbit your world, leaving brush strokes of dreams, breathing oxygen like a dragons breath into a quiet corner. When you whisper, the dreams they gather, locked in a warm embrace, limbs connected, creating steps developing a path of escapism. You are the womb, the dream is the oxygen

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