The nightmares are cinematic spins from my night-self,
left spinning in the morning.
The morning is 2am.
The morning is midnight.
The morning moves with me.

The labyrinth walls of sand lined streets,
confused in all their shifting and
so am I.

Another day came, I lost Fox
in the same neighborhood
and kicked my keys in the sewer,
scared and trembling

The dreams of dreaming are moonlight easy
The dreams of reality all terror.