The Claws of Dreams
I wonder what the claws of dreams would sound
Like if recoded by some instrument
That scientists can use, one that they found
Abandoned in a corner of God’s tent.
He didn’t need it once He learned His mind
Could pry into our deepest sleepy codes,
Once God had realized that He could find
Our hidden secrets written in the odes
We closet in the bottom of our brains,
Inside the nodes and ganglia of sin.
He smirks while He interprets messy stains
That we encrypted with adrenaline.
..I’d like to turn on God’s machine, awake
….Those claws, and hear how dreams reduce the ache.