Blue dream

I fall into booze tonight.

They said: It’s your life, you choose.

Tonight, I fell asleep with booze.

Because I chose.

Early in the dry morning, I woke up.

It’s a rainy day in a northern fall.

I enjoy myself, dreaming through the day.

I dreamt of a crystal castle and a sunny sky.

Today is Monday, and I dream of a Sunday morning.

Maybe yesterday, I dreamt of a Blue Monday.

Saturday night will come, and I’ll be dreaming of Black Friday.

Why am I?

A fool.

Who dreams of colorful weekends.

When all the days here are grey.

I search for pink days with pinky promises.

Maybe it’s in the pink fluid?

But I don’t see well, because I’m colorblind.

My blue glasses, my black heart, my white skin, my red blood, my yellow teeth.

Days pass by.

Weeks end.

Years go.

Time is just a measurement.

A measure to do things on time.

Life doesn’t understand time.

So when time comes, I’ll laugh at it all.

Beep, blow, blue—the alarm clock sounds.

It’s time to wake up and make my dreams come true.