A young man asked me about lucid dreaming
I said it's no falsity and he said seeming
To imply that I should teach him,
"Can it be done without like a small amount of screaming?"

"Yes", I said, but beware the devil for he
Is in the method you shall need to be
applying to get it right.
"You mean the devil totally is real and he will come for me?"

"No no child, for God's sake!" The devil is in
the method of checking reality akin
to checking a lion for lice!
"You mean to say, the devil lies in the way I think?"

"Well there you go son." As you test reality daily
you will realise how unreal it all is
and thereby you will learn
that evil can be bliss.

"Groovy"

You wore socks to bed- knowing it irked me.
Faced me while we slept- breathing your stinky breath in my face was a definite, guaranteed.
You loitered as I changed always trying to cop a feel- ignoring my agitated pleas.
You watched your wrist- telling me I’m late; of course, I forever disagreed.
Invited yourself to my TV time- talking to me as if I was free.
Told me I was beautiful; each and every day- annoyingly, times three.
Sometimes you had an ‘I’m the king’ attitude, and I was just your sidekick wannabe.

Sadly, I still wash all of your socks each and every week.
I face the fan as I sleep, so it dries my tear’s wet streaks.
I continuously pause while getting dressed- waiting to hear you make the floorboards creak.
I put on my makeup extra slow anxiously anticipating your frustrated shriek.
I turn up the TV’s volume hoping you’ll come interrupt to speak.
Waiting for your mushy compliments as I check the mirror at my womanly physique.
I made you a personalized crown, so you could be a king that’s honored and chic.
But silence and heartbreak are all that is left here to tweak.
You’ve departed this world suddenly, leaving my life confusing and disastrously bleak.
Now, your once irritating traits have become the only thing that my broken heart desperately seeks.

When he kissed me, I thought he’d conquer the parts of him too much like his mother.
I thought he’d lose the pieces of militant voices inside his head on the curves of my hips.
I think he was trying to bury himself in me…
I know that I let him.
He punctuated every apology with the same melancholy mitigation.
Like a true addict, I told him that was enough.

It wasn’t.
It still isn’t
but I always miss him.
He helped  build my heart from scratch,
and I will always love him.

With turbid minds
And mercurial hearts,
One must never forget
To stay close to a flame
That burns to warm
Opposed to burning to
End.

The purpose of life is not to live.
It is to find an interesting way to die.