better dreams



I have better dreams now

i’m naming them better


someone told me once

naming something,

makes wishes come true

i keep my wishes

in a box i’ve never opened


better dreams,

that don’t keep me awake

that are stuck boots in muck and twigs

that have no distinction;

no careening corners or wailing terrors

no wings and freedom


boredom dreams


i call them better dreams:

i can’t think of anything better to call them


dreams made of a diet 

concocted by a pharmacist;

the red pill makes you calm, and induces 7 hours of sleep,

the blue pill prevents depression and

helps counter the side effects of

the yellow pill that keeps mania under control;

the green pill is just in case


i hope that i’m taking placebos,

i vainly think a solution waits

it will be discovered after i die;

it will render all medications pointless:


i keep believing this advanced medicine 

isn’t just chemical voodoo

but a true answer,


morning pills, evening pills, never ending pill bottles


now i sleep with a fishbowl on my head;

my dreams are relentless in their tedium

sleep is barely recognizable;

i miss the horrible, disjointed, fabulous dreams


i feel like i’m dead in every dream


people tell me i’m better now