Contributor: Lyla Sommersby

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In dreams
I float away
I fly
into high
blue abyssal bliss
rise
through dark clouds
of doubt
of loss
pain
long quiet nights
without purpose
or meaning
just
corpses of days
spilling their minutes
like blood
wasted.

In dreams,
I float above
exist above
the sea
the chaos
the anger
the race
the grind.

In dreams,
I weave
in the hopes that the weaving
might come

to me
to be


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I am a student in Miami, Florida. Painting is my other love. My first book, Sketches of Someone, is available through Thunderune Publishing.