The world pivots on dreams, and dreams are scattered specs of desire that once held form.
When one day the world crumbles, I will save its name, keep it in a bundle and hold it up for fame.
If one day the world shall crumble, I will too obey, do everything I could, but still die with it, someway.
I wish I were a serpent, a smiley sneaky thing, moving towards dreaming, and spit all mine to it.
And then the world won’t crumble, because my dreams would stay, removed from me with passion, to hold up the home we made. Insert notes. Insert notes. Insert notes.