It would be a sin
(if I believed in such things)
to think the way I think
sometimes,
my mind turns strangely,
I know,
I know,
and it comes up
(from the gear works)
with nothing but roses,
vanishing quick though,
in harsh sunlight.
I dream these things,
cities,
nations,
worlds,
vanishing quick.
I wish
sometimes,
I had another mode of operation,
but dreams are my currency,
and always will be.