Waking from this dream space I want to call & see how you are.
Prayer you’re just a smoker & not a powder user. Hearing you perform blackbird in your crumpled state. In dream I was with you & met your legit poet friends & success was coming to you in the form of a creepy white man offering all the tools you’d need to never be broke again. As you contemplate he walked away saying your words & how he’d have a robot walk you home at night. You broke away from me & bought something from a dealer I’m chasing you through a, as our your legit poet friends. Grabbing your hoodie we pull you but a come rushes in gun draw we let you go. He says someone has to get that women some help. We find you slack jawed near a puddle your work over head playing. Not again is what we say. Unable to lift you we surround your body to keep people from recording you on loop.
Bolting out of sleep I want to call you & ask if your just a smoker & not a powder user.
The old folks said I have sight & that dreams are visions that are open to interpretation.