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Myself the Credit

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I’m happy in my dreams
but when I wake
it’s not the same
My feet are heavy
breath unsteady
spirit much too tame
I fall asleep
and instantly
new colors I construct
I smile and laugh
my prayers are please
to not ever wake up
Of course it ends
each morning as
the vile sun does rise
Slip out of bed
my blood is lead
and slip on my disguise
I smell I hear I taste
I see I feel
this conscious place
And yet I’m not impressed
so easily things
are erased
I struggle not to snore
because the people
are the same
So material
that everything has
its own name
But then I fall apart
as I fall
into the night
And greater things
confront me
than sound or smell or sight
And to myself
I have to grant
this best credit upon
For nothing can compare
to these worlds
myself have drawn.



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