By: Katie M. Moss
Mania drifts in through my dreams.
Awake, asleep--it’s all the same.
Manic-- Mania-- shifting brain.
Are dreams our life, or just pretend?
As cloudy bits we shape and shift,
The gods, our neighbors--molding rifts.
Our souls entwined with rubber bands,
The product of our one night stands.
A farce, a play, a slight refrain--
We’re all just waiting for the rain.