Slob

Lying around like a silly mess
depressed about the inability
to explain color to a blind man
wishing for the clock to at least
pretend to be a time machine
or at least some contraption
which can rewind to the past
during those moments when feeling
the summer breeze seemed miraculous
eyes shut, yet open to everything in motion
twirling like dandelion seeds palms open wide
to accept these silly things we call dreams
treasuring them like lucky charms
which really don't mean a god damn thing
but it's nice to know that we do dream
slipping through the seams undetected
taking time away from a bass pounding world
at least until the sidewalk is soaked in melting snow
so I can have a good time hopping over puddles
forgetting about this god damn mess
just lying around, waiting for the snow to melt