I have these, dreams,
of a single variety holding me
a specific body of a claustrophobic mind,
one coerced towards my varietal of sorts.

I have this dream,
where emotion overcomes understanding,
in a way that physicality
transforms into obsequious talks
and transformative movements.

I dream this, dream,
only to cling to memory
of knowing nothing to come;
forward looking, unhappy.

But all of these dreams,
swung around, like a magical show,
lead to some sort of variety
of you.


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