My breath initiates the color scheme, the plot as
the soft whir of the wind passing through my lips

holds together the phantom of colors dancing,
behind my eyelids that project the story told,

by the history of the life passed by them each day,
each breath passing to another slide of the story

told by the mind living inside of me, the mind
I cannot place as it only comes out when my mind

is least aware, it tells it’s stories and my mind remembers,
yet the mind is still invisible within the midst of my dreams,

the mind races yet I feel it as if it were my own,
each pulse generating a new thought to be shown

in my heavy sleep with the same intensity of the
living day, the motions and sounds all colliding together,

to create this alternate universe morphed together by the
mind I cannot control yet serve to, yet it serves me

as it tells me endless stories of things now, and forever more
unseen to my living eye in order to open these sightless eyes

to the things it cannot see even with sight, it shows me
the thoughts my mind has though it is an outsider

living inside of me and my mind, it knows just how to
manipulate my systems and use my breath, my sleep

to work it’s movies night after night until the day comes
and it is time for it to sit back and watch as it prepares for

the next story to be told in the night during my slumber, as
my breath sparks the color scheme and the mind sets the scene.