We always talk about dreams,

in poems, we describe them,

as our needs.

We need it,

to remind us that they are not there

only the nightmares of this reality.

They are the only real things,

are the only things loyal?

It seems to always live them,

when things don’t go

as you dreamed of them,

and our hopes, ignored,

destroyed, trampled,

our choked throats.