Dream Journal: Episode III

Listen up, folks, I’ll make your eyes blow

Tale so burning, you’ll need some ice soak

Was I asleep or awake or in a no-name mode

Setting the scene on some kinda game show

But the first act wasn’t like a typical set-row

Bright, and sunny and I’m standing in a metro

A Ferris wheel outside looks a tad bit retro

A package sitting out, ain’t open yet, though

Inside was a parchment with a red seal

2 rules plastered, embroidered like teal

No selling bad content that’ll make you surreal

No going out with anyone, no matter the appeal

And a party invitation in a flowerless bouquet

A tux with some ties coloured a bit too grey

As I soon entered, I heard a loud cheer. Hooray!

But not for me so it stings like, Oww man, touche!

So I was like it’s the time to make them regret

Content in my pocket and I’ll sell it in your face

And if you object, I’ll hit you with my mace

This party just sucks so it’s time to save face

The plan was just perfect but the flaw was fatal

Went out with a girl, we’re laying out on a table

Never saw her again, it’s a damn betrayal

She was kidnapped while watching the cable

Time flew backwards, and I was sitting there

Approached by a man holding a questionnaire

And she was there too, about to sniff the air

Asked me out again, but I know it ends where.

The man was livid but still a bit patient

Questioned our intentions, sitting adjacent

I never sold content without due payment

I never went out except by the pavement

Went back to her place, and saw her calendar

Saw embarrassing photos, so I examined her

She just left and raged turning light lavender

Revenge I plotted, woke up in the weather, still under

Oh, shoot! It was just a false awakening

Dream was on and I’m still in the wind

Man with the questionnaire staring in

Evaluating answers, the face looks grim

How do I escape from this man in my nightmares

Jumped out the window in the streets quite bare

Hit on the head by the man’s damn questionnaire

Finally woke up with a jolt, hit the rod of my chair

By: Arman Yusuf