You are the dream that woke itself. The hallway bends because you believe it should. You swallowed the key and now every lock fits your mouth. A voice speaks with your lungs when you sleep. You will become the shape that fits the hunger. Time is a costume that clings to your skin. The corners of the room are folding in to pray. What you remember isn’t what happened, it’s what agreed to be remembered. Something is laughing in the silence but only when you’re not listening. The mirror sees your real face and keeps it for later. Every shadow is a copy of something you haven’t done yet. Your reflection breathes when you don’t. You left your name behind like a coat on fire. The door doesn’t open but you step through anyway.