Dreams dashed,
Though not the 100-metres.
How does one know where normal is,
If they’ve never been?
Caught in a web of research,
References lead to and fro.
No more goblins or gremlins,
Or large sea creatures of any sort.
Health card torn and mangled,
Worn from repeated use.
Sleeping like Fuller did,
Dymaxion rhythm feeds the soul.
Dali did it too,
Skeleton key clanging on overturned bowl.
Dementia praecox they told Kerouac,
Didn’t stop him from travelling.
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