No Need to Adjust Reality

Soft voices against hard beats and hard streets against soft feet and hard dreams against soft sheets when waking feels like dreaming and dreams float into memories and then it’s difficult to grind back into reality but it’s not even preferable, anyway because no one knows you there. And here, it’s perfectly acceptable that light switches open doors and doorknobs turn hands into claws, claws that gnaw and grind and grasp your thoughts like marbles out of a bag. And then the marbles roll off the varnished table onto the floor, wavy and fluid like water. No need to adjust.