Sewer Wheres

From here to there we dream, dream of things we want to be and project ourselves to places we would like to be.  We live, work and move forward with it in mind.  Hope to Lord we don’t stop.  Imaginations, they seem so realistic and tangible.  They’re edible.  I know they’re edible because I eat them.  But I can’t help regurgitating into my toilet.  My self goes with it.  Speeding down the whirl pool I see random chunks of success and orange oily streaks of future plans only half digested.  The walls have no grip. The porcelain provides only an uncaring torrent that rushes down the dark hole of reality.  Everything is OK though, I feel better every passing moment. . .Only I wonder if I’m not just happily smiling in the dark now, walking through the green and black gunk of a dark stinking sewer, blissfully moving in ignorance, marching, whistling a jolly song, high on the imagination of future and present lies. Blinded by dreams another day, maybe a new one today, certainly it’s not the one followed yesterday?