I must be dreaming or dying

You’re catching me at the best time of my life 

But I fear that I am dying

In the night, I wish for my eyes to be blind

My chest rests on a bow drawn tight 

With the heart of a child aimed up at the sky

Grand as the Fourth of July, shimmering summer nights

I have a memory of little old me running a kite down the tarmac 

And it replays in my stomach 

I fear that I was only ever once half-bright

Amber sun-soaked marbles for eyes

And now they've rolled in the back of my skull for the night

A martini glass embraced by a half-decaying flaming katy 

The swimming olive in laze 

My lampshade is made of a pillowcase 

And my mornings and days are all out of sight   

The mundane is just mundane, like any other word on any other day

And I want us to get married on a Sunday

With a suit on and the sun behind us 

A Sunday would be perfect 

In times like these

I think that I see my ribcage under every one of my tees

I grind my teeth as my dream walks among the trees

Along he walks with me

I want you to curve around my bones like pagets 

I google every symptom 

I was right the first time. I’ve always had it.

I think that I’ve been dying for a very long time

Impressing everyone I must

Resigning with every inch I’ve fluffed

Holding in a thin cough until they’ve talked

And I only think of them always, because I am no better than they are

I would've drowned in the Atlantic stars' reflections if I weren't so stunned

Off a cliff in Ireland

Where the moon was once under the ocean

Your wings danced beneath my breath 

And I listened to the wind whistle through your spurs  

When I count to three, I’ll forget that I'm counting

And this must mean that I am sleeping 

Because I forget only if I am dreaming

I see creatures with human faces in the family

And they wisp by passively

I see that everywhere I run

You are there with me 

My feet go to sleep while I am standing

And it reminds me of the grass on my knees, under that supermassive tarp sheet 

In spring

When the grass is always green 

 I worry always

While singing under the parasol of all these great things

I know that I'm neurotic

But for me, please

If you would close the blinds, seeing as my brain cannot stop it

And I must dream

In times like these