Dreaming Like a Parade
I dream like crawling over a parade
Passing by loud, blaring instruments
Getting sections of music and sound
I climb up the front of float-cars
And over the traveling wonderlands
To get snippets of performance taken
From my past day, ripped from my
Fantasies of what the future could be
Or my tragedies grotesquely displayed
In full, vivid, unavoidable technicolor
The voices are loud and everywhere
Repeating chants in a background roar
While the people in front of me scream
Words that are different every time
But come down to the simplistic queries:
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!
YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG! WHY DON’T YOU LISTEN?!”
Yet when I try to get the meaning,
When I try to find my way off and escape
The parade is nothing but gibberish
I escape one vignette to crawl through
My regret and just climb onto another
Over and over again in repetition
I try to avoid the mistake of staying
But every time I try to go I end up back
In a different twist of the same screw
It never quits until I grow too tired to sleep
Upon which time I am far too tired to wake
I lie in bed staring at the sunlight squeezing
Past the blinds to mark up the ceiling and ask
“What am I doing here? What is there to listen to?”
