Dreaming reality, waking to fiction.

the beast we breed in the realm of sleep.

Not waking to disrupt the fiction we construct.

Society is a illusion of what we create,

In dreams only do we truly abide.

Its roots grow deeper,

masking the very illusion we developed,

The lines are blurred and all evidence covered.

reality becomes but sand in and endless hourglass,

never aligning itself to the fiction we live.

And when fiction is broken we construct more pieces

Upon it to conceal the cracks of which

reality hopes to seep through.

The beast wrestles in our slumber, and

On occasions we loose the battle.

Fiction creates names for the beast of reality we unleash, and

Brings down its chains to bind them from spreading.

The gate keepers watch guard at the construct,

Reality has no place at its palace…