Dreams Riddled with Bite-Marks

Spilled ink spells time

in unreliable dreams

squeezed from my sandy-eyed mind.

.

In the half-dark

my written words made sense,

but when seen in the light,

they are still half-dark

with botched endings and flippant beginnings.

.

I think,

this happened

when I was in the other world,

but how can I be sure

that this isn’t a manufactured memory

trying to explain

the perplexing chaos

of the once comprehensible? 

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