In my dream there are so many movie theaters, but I haven’t seen anything. On the couch their skin is smooth as they climb on top of me.

In my dream we all live with the reality of crushing zombie armies, battened within our few skyscrapers. But something different is starting to emerge.

In my dream my final celebration happens in the same location as a mainstream standup cert and my shaggy queerbo friends are upsetting the management with their joyous political heckling.

In my dream we look at a carmine cabinet inlaid with sketchy singerie. In talking about it we delight in how we will be irritating the curator of the whole wing.

In my dream the women are forced to bathe each other in “green iodine” before the next trial. The field is gridded with syringes. I hope for a swift, simple death.

In my dream the women are forced to bathe each other in “green iodine” before the next trial. The field is gridded with syringes. I hope for a swift, simple death.

In my dream a head shakes.

In my dream we both understand how important it is to inflate the rubber rooster crest on his head.

In my dream a wave of cops pushed out of the buildings entrance and into the surrounding scaffolding, leaving them packed and crushed against the green bars. They are yelling, contorted and hurting each other as they struggle. I keep walking.

In my dream I’ve popped the whole peach into my mouth and swallowed it down before I notice that all the fruit is moldy.

In my dream there is a little more beneath the unfurling.