My individual bottle just got larger today
filled itself with dreams of opening
up to the wild wild world
inside of me.
Yet my time plays its tricks, as usual
stumbles upon its own somersualts
guesses the unthinkable
grows its axis
towards plus infinity
(plus or minus me?)
dreams within my bottle disperse
if they’re not cared for
dreams within a bottle cannot survive
if one’s bottle does not burst
into smithereens
hiding within the end (or the beginning)
of all things.
slowly, slowly
my dreams disperse, indeed
my bottle breaks
bits and pieces pierce the skin of my outrageous fortunes
outwards instead of within,
dreams come into a new Being
who’s silently watching colourful dreams
about future-me.
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