Wake

When I wake, it is like a dream. Things are hazy, softened by the world, and the things in it. My bed is iron, a prison, I am the prisoner. Entrapped within the world of a fairytale. The carpet is spongy beneath my feet. The carpet is blue. A beautiful blue, fading in some areas. I lay on that carpet to read, to sleep, sometimes it appears bottomless, like a cave. Caves are shaped by water. Into patterns, swirls.In my mind I wander in these caves. Swimming in them, consumed by the beauty that they produce. Then I wake. The lights turn on, consequently everything becomes serious.