When Sarcasm Is The Truth

You're shaken up
From the stress at work today.
You're in pieces,
about being able to pay your rent tomorrow.
You can't sleep,
Because you're thinking of the responsibilities
waiting on you tomorrow and the next days of your life.

Meanwhile, death could be knocking at your door.

Any hour. Any minute.

Any second.

But it doesn't matter.
Because there are more important things to do.

Closed Windows

Slowly he wakes, slowly tuning out the buzzing of reality.

"You're turn to fly..." I whispered.

I'm handing out wings for the broken.

It's time we share the sky.

Lucid Under Sunlight

The yellow outside casts shadows,
Each step I take sounds a beat.

I aim to be a plane silently swarming this Earth.

Fate has only given me one shovel,
I'll dig on my own until I begin to descend.
A simple symphony to leave my fossil within the land.

A sweep across the bend, and nothing feels more secure
Than the grip of the wind.

I have tossed the key to the home I have come from.
Empty handed, I walk. I kneel. I seek.

Surpassing the limits of reality,
Like blockages in clotted arteries.

Nature leaves me with new eyes, every time.
I smile and thank the trees for sending shivers down my spine.

Modern World

The one who rests upon her seat,
Plays without aim and seeks defeat.

Head in the clouds reflective and sincere,
Wasted time and unproductive years.

Turning black and and cracked and gone,
But that soul never stops searching for the sun.

Bright and white and dripping into blue,
The sky that sweats precipitation, and hue.

But in the field of flowers, rest assured
One will speak
One will seek
The soul will be found.

Rescued from a maze, consumed.
Escorted the way out, the end of the halt.

The beginning of life...
Breathe now, darling.

Reality is her enemy
Create dreams and colours
Instead.

Impaired Waking Life

Reality's company
Is such a bore.

The disability to believe in ability.

You are all created from my imagination,
Objects, obstacles.

What is memory?

Creation.

It's simple. It's fake.

Life lives, falls and at last comes the break.
I will keep my window open,
The breeze feels better, indoors.

Conscious Bud Of Light

In the cell vibrating, pulsing
A fluid producing existence.

Floating and wandering beyond
These hollow streets,
And fleeting countries.

A sour sun that burns,
Scoured earth on scorching panorama.

The outside blooms green,
Like veins appearing as river streams.

Escaping through the tubes, producing oxygen to a beating heart.

Cut it off, to find the bittersweet termination.

The timing circling in quickening paces.
Days becoming years, smiles becoming fears.

Over and above, I am willing to break myself off.
This path. This cell is shaken. Lost in an airway.

No longer living like broken skin off a mattress waiting to be swept.
Ultimate aspiration bleeds for death.

Level after layer, after step after floor.
Can't distinguish where the reality is.

Waking, or dreaming.
Breathing or Sleeping.
Pinch me. Wake me. Suffocate me.

Sound the alarm.
Where do I wake from bewildering shudder rest
Or is it psychasthenia?

Liquified

Glorious, candle light waking up the dark.

All I could ask for was this place of safety and of love.

Why did you take that away from me?

Melted wax is all that remains in this place of melted hopes, hearts, and dreams.

Everything that you created, became light.

But you were quick to let go, to burn out.

Ashes twinkle in silver moonlight,

I'm off...

To sleep in my imagination,

Because I no longer know if reality, is real.

The Girl Who Lives Asleep

I’d rather live in a dream, it hurts too much to wake up every morning and live each day working, struggling, fighting. With yourself, with others. For happiness, for goals, for wanting things that you can’t have. Most people don’t get the dream. So just live in it. And don’t ever wake up.