The Broken Subconscious
Dreams I can’t control, outcomes I don’t recall,
My broken subconscious staggers
Like a gunfighter who drew late,
Blood spurting from bullet holes
I didn’t know existed
While a stranger asks for directions.
My glazed look must not have been reassuring–
He’s not going the way I suggested,
If, indeed, this ever happened.
67Steffen.com 
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