This Dream is Real

They were inanimate.

They'd just lay around the house
and were only useful
when we'd physically
touch them.

I decided
they were
boring.

They needed life.

They needed a personality.

I could give it to them.

The cheese in the fridge
had mold.

I ordered it
to cut the mold
out.

It woke up
and did exactly that.

I focused on my stereo.

It came on
and played some soft
metal music.

It smiled
as the tunes
grew louder.

Before I knew it,
the whole house was
alive.

It was breathing
and dancing
and following my every
order.

This was,
of course,
my dream.

But this could be
our reality.

Our minds
possess
this power.

We are too dumb
to believe
this.

Not me.

Just look at my pen.

It wrote this
entire poem
without me
lifting
a finger.

Believe me.

This dream is real.

Childhood Dreams

I've been dreaming
of her
since I was a boy.

I'd imagine her
cooking me food,
naked.

I'd create fantasies of her
licking my balls
and massaging my back
after a hard day's work.

When I would get up,
I'd cry
and listen to
sad songs because
some young slut
broke my heart.

I'd wipe the tears away
and listen for hours
and wait.

She was getting closer.

I could feel her
on my back
and balls.

Every step of my life.

I knew
I was with her
this past weekend.

We've been together now
for three years.

We've gone through
many, many
sad times
and bad times
and some of the best moments
of our lives.

Together.

This time,
we were in
San Francisco,
staying in a cheap
motel room,
right above a cheap
strip club.

She cried,
just like I dreamed
when I was a boy.

I put my arms around her
exactly
like I remembered I would.

She was the woman
of my dreams.

I smiled
and it seemed like
an odd time to do so.

She just didn't know.

I knew.

I could see
the future
just like
when I was young.

We fought again,
but I didn't seem to mind
as much as I
used to.

I knew that every fight
we've fought,
has brought us closer
to our dream:

Our marriage.

It's all I've ever
dreamed about
since I was listening to those
sad, sad songs.

A Jolt of Terror

You know
it's funny when
looking out
of a window
of a plane
and the jet moves
violently
and without warning.

A jolt of terror
runs throughout
my body.

Only
for a brief moment.

Then,
the laughter comes.

A myriad
of giggles
and snorts.

If the planes
does
go down,
that's all there is.

Goodnight.

This doesn't necessarily
have
to happen
on a plane
either.

This
crash and burn
could happen
anywhere.

Anytime.

I would still
have the same
response.

What else could I do?