This morning I was in the midst of a lucid dream when I thought, hey, I might be writing some good shit, I should grab a pen to write down these poems. I was, in fact, composing poems in my dream. This is not the strange part. I frequently create poems while semi-conscious. Not much ever comes of it, since by the time I get up to fetch a pen and some paper, I have usually forgotten the lines and am left with the vague sense that I have lost something worth remembering.
This time I was determined not to forget. So I got up and went into the kitchen. Not long after I was leaning over a large slab of chocolate cake topped in vanilla with an icing bag in hand. Soon I was scribbling lines of pale blue as fast as I could pipe out frosted letters. Every time I changed my mind I had to edit the poem by scrapping the words off with a spatula. Yum… buttercream.
Then I woke up. Nothing like eating your own words.