It's all in your head.
It's not real.
They're just hallucinations.

Are they?
I'm beginning to question my own imagination.

Holding my own hand,
to see if I'm still there.

"We're all mad here."

Can somebody help me?
I'm dreaming away.
In a fantasy land,
where flamingoes are
used to play
croquet.

Who am I?
I've changed several times.
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
I don't know why.

Why do they not recognize me?
Who am I?

Banished out of the pretty garden.
The sweet flowers turned bitter
as they sang.

Like the cookies I consumed
without a second thought.
Washed down with drinks
that I knew not.

I say ,”I'm not a ****.
But I'm not me.”
I'm big.
I'm small.

I'm nothing at all.

Can somebody help me?
It's all in my head.


Off with my head.


- August

The cool breeze of the spring.
                     I'm the withering trees outside in the fall.
   I'm the serene lagoon, where beautiful swans
                         f     l     o     a     t
                                                    upon.
I'm the  
                   g         moon that bewilders your eyes as you
                 n                                                                ­                    
              i                             ­                                                             
   ­         s                                                       ­                                       
         i                                                                ­                                    
     r                                                                ­                       fall asleep.
                   I'm the sun you cannot look at
                                          in the  b r o a d  daylight.
                  I'm AUGUST,
                               who soon will be a FULL moon.
                         But I first have to become the
                                         sunset
                                           as
                                            I
                ­                            
                                    ­           f
                                               a
                                              l
               ­                            l
                                            .
                 ­       I have to carry swords in my back;
                        I have to keep wan der ing like
                           a hermit, until I am
                                             found.
                              Until, I have truly found myself.

                                                  -Augus­t

Like Alchemists,

we seek an answer.

We experiment with different elements,

fusing ourselves

over the fire of our hearts.

Like Alchemists,

we long for an answer.

The answer lies within.

But our vision is hazy

due to the smoke.

All we see is the elixir of hope,

and as we join hands,

we choke.

Like Alchemists,

we thought.

But like fools we really were.

To think that we could be

twin flames.


- August

I pretend to love him.
To love the game.
To love the
Fun.
But I'd rather be with you.
I'd rather find my
way on
the strings
of that
violin, than
to try and
keep up with
the beat
of the
Drums.

- August