are we living in a world of make believe
finding ourselves void
of even a spark of reality
surviving on cast off’s
remnants of other’s dreams
We are all composed of stardust
and so is dirt.
You will inherit your father’s sins;
shortcomings; and nebulous...
Upon my breast
sleeps the pages of
a smooth thick novel
spending the night with
a passionate story in
Your skin pages
the concept of a “Freudian Slip” just doesn’t make any sex to me at all
It never was like this before,
It used to be a ink black tsunami,
That swallowed and covered all,
But it was before I actually got a chance,
To live as myself a little bit,
To grow as a human being,
And see this thing called life,
That changed it all.
Now, in heart, mind, and soul,
There is an unrelenting war being fought,
Both sides wanting diferent things,
One wanting nothing more,
Than to see this mysterious thing known as life,
To see all wonders in this world,
To fully experience this thing concept of humanity,
To live with all aspects of the soul.
But there is the opposing faction,
Who still supports the ink black disaster,
And vies for destruction,
Seeing and sewing only sin and corruption,
But only as means to an end,
For one so tainted by all it’s methods will be willing,
To submit to it’s true goal,
This faction wants nothing more than to die.
It’s unrelenting, this war in me,
It expends all my energy,
All I can do is try to see,
If I can help that light in me,
And I can usually give them artillery,
But I’ve got to pick it up from the pharmacy,
But sadly, it never gives a victory.