the nameless town of the broken unicorns
i wish the streets were made of oranges,
and the radish-vines could touch the stain-glass sky.
i would walk through crowds of nameless people
and long stretches of unicorn graveyards.
i would gamble with my future self
in a tiny bustling ice cream shop full of swarming, buzzing, nameless
people waiting in line for ephemeral, mint-flavored happiness.
i’d sell seeds of yellow and burgundy pain
for the windowsills of the little nameless children crowding around me
with their strawberry breath and seaside hair.
then i’d sit on a beach of powdered-sugar sand
and watch the peach sun drown in an ocean made of camomile tea.
i’d find a sign outside a coffee shop that would say “you are dreaming”
and as i’d be walking home along the orange streets,
i’d stumble upon a broken unicorn.
Photo "Orange" by 123edhouse