Afternoons are for self-indulgence.
All other pursuits are inadvisable
(they usually end in tears,
or never get off the ground).
Lethargy and sleepiness prevail.

But if you give in to the whims
of the subconscious,
take off all your clothes
and get back into bed,
stare at the branches moving gently
     outside your window,
Then, then all the magic of
     the universe is at your disposal.
The journey has just begun
into a clover leaf or out
  to the far reaches of the
   galaxy and beyond.
To dream in the afternoon
  is the utmost pleasure.

i gave you the room key
just to stay for one night
but you've been extending
coming back even at daylight

you run in the clouds
and walk in the sun,
your overstay has hit its time
so when are you checking out, ***?

i always adored the story
of peter pan and his lost boys,
yet the ending made me ache.
it's in the moment
where he tells his darling wendy
that he'll love her forever,
in the place between sleep and awake.
i know now that i wait for you there
with my heart in my hands
beating out your name,
wondering if the whole thing
had been nothing more
than a day dream.

I wonder
Was it a spell I was under?
I am awake,
And the world seems duller

When we’re asleep
And the nights are heavy with fog
that’s when our dreams are
awakening and another
dream day takes off.

It’s a whole other world
Where everything impossible
possible now
Where dreams are no dreams
but reality now
Where everything you wish for comes true  and everything
negative a positive somehow

When you wake up
with a smile on your face
You’ve been visiting dreamworld today.
Wondering why the hell did I wake up!!
Sometimes dreamworld is the better world to stay.
Especially nowadays!!!

Shell ✨🐚

Wrought-wide eyes from catching clouds on the safety of our backs
Who's lifting who dried-up with the fossils, tucked away at Jack's
Can you capture the oily maze of Perla, Gary, Glen AND Dee?
We should cap the treasure trove. Just one shell. Alright... three.

Passenger mats drowned long ago in quartets of sandy shoes
They're coming around to dukkah, but beetroot's an ongoing feud.
We'll find our way back to purple-brown after art class in year nine
Until then just squeeze my hand when they see "****" every time.

Curse words stowed beneath our necks, cellared with the red wine.
Pull binoculars out in twenty years to seek parrots in sun spines.
Trick them into dusking walks, the promise of ice cream at Kateri
Squealing across Eileen's golden grain, I hope they pick Rasberry.

He swirls the sand beneath him and burrows his sweet brow.
She builds bridges for fairies and writes names in stick-crayon.
I'll say they're just like us, one day when they can stand it least
Until then their just like you dreamboat, floating down my east.