dreams made of I wish I knew what

This is a strange poem... basically a compilation of really strange dreams that I somehow remembered enough to write down. Here it is.

they speak
in waterlogged
whispers, squeezing
tightly, stubborn
syndications
stand
reciting words of
spite in rhythm
skim lattes
hot breath
cracking ridges
with no bones
finally a happy member
recalls my psychotic
creeping, closer to
the end
and
the morning spits in my eyes
to clutch with
force perverse
happiness
left to scour a
melting pot
so full
of fish
that
they’re right
and left
alone

(c) Caitlin C.