White mud

Lay down and imagine your secret place.
Describe it to me. Take me there.
Mine was found by them, the shitty school teachers, the fake lovers, the con artists...
They kicked me out of my own dwelling.
Now I can only live here, in this very precise, very real, moment.
I have no vision to go to. I am stranded in the real world.
Maybe that makes me special. Perhaps people like me for that.
Still no one would invite me to their dreamland knowing I can put in danger such place.
So I have many friends, loads of earthly friends.
That's not what I want.
What I want is to be a part of yours.
I must confess I have looked into it a few times.
Your crumbling laugh reveals glimmers of this place.
I saw squirrels taking care of wolves. I saw a band that never stopped playing and never stopped walking.
It was a land of soft white mud with a few houses bathed in this flawless sunlight.
I noticed a blue house at the end of the road.
It wasn't big.
It wasn't small.
It had just the right space for you and me to lay down.