Dream World (unfinished?)

You avant-garde superstition
is a relentless anthem,
painted in magnificent strokes.
It pulls from the haunted evening sky
with deep purples of midnight.
It invades my too-fast cycle of thoughts
as I lie awake staring up at those dark heavens.
My heart trembles, spiraling, furious
underneath that star studded silk.
I listen to the acoustic caress of each sound,
each breath on the distant wind,
and let it guide me through the dark.
I gain a cotton candy peace of mind,
bubble gum pink,
and too sweet for any place but dreams.
Somehow in your railway navigation
you have bypassed my wounded feet,
dirty from wanton dancing.
I tell myself I am free to wander,
to show my scars to the world.