I search in dreams

I'm SO tired of this virus-world.

I pray to that dead
criminal Jesus - to set
us right - restore us.

We’re a mess - like
spilled salt - remember the
fresh air of freedom?

In dreams I search - there
must be a cure lying
around somewhere..

Eyelid shades
open on chiaroscuro
lit, moody mornings.

I keep my head down
I’m doing my fey best, to
let nothing touch me.

Author's Note

all comments welcome