Untitled draft

In dreams last night I visited
The sewage system of my soul
And discovered with astonishment
A pathway running through it
A subterranean railroad
Full of thriving teaming life
Like some futuristic vision
And I begged of myself
Please no, let this not be my future
The trains, however, were not running on time
Which gave me some solace
The candy shop was staffed by two
Buxom ladies made up thickly
Moles and all
Oh they were jovial enough but
Did not sell the candy of my first choice
That disappointment afforded me another
Glimpse of hope
Moreover, they were completely out of
Dimes so I was unable
To purchase or consume a thing
In the process of fruitlessly negotiating
Change
I missed my train, a rickety old
Squealing tanker
Something left over from
One or other epic war
Now long forgotten
Recycled against all odds
And better judgment
I sighed with relief as the train took off
And started my long journey out of there
Through wet corridors I stumbled and ran
Trying not to notice dank
Low ceilings overgrown with some form
Of hanging algae in places thick
As bead curtains
Feeling the cold slime on the back of my right hand
Passing through into bright spotlit areas
Where workers labored night and day
To improve this place
Make it presentable
To respectable passengers
Such as myself