You know well of the twisted dreams I sometimes have.
Where the surreal and realistic battle for control.
There's always something wrong there.
I remember one dream when the sky was green,
and another where the sun was gone despite the rays beaming down.
But one there was one that stuck with me.

I awoke and went about my morning.
But when I saw my parents, their faces startled me.
Particularly because they were upside down.
I continued on after confirming my ****** orientation in a mirror.
The sky was the ground and vise versa.
I drove to your house on the roof of my car and parked in your attic.
Descended the stairs to your floor and entered your room.
And you sat up on your ceiling, looked at me once and said,
"Ah! Your face is upside down!"

I reached out to grab your hand
Trying to pull you down, only to be pulled up.
And at the moment, my orientation became true.
And I realized. I was the one who was upside down.
So I climbed down from your floor and joined you
Because if everyone is upside down, then nobody is.
And ever since that realization, I've always been scared at night.
That I will enter my dreams and be standing on the ground.

Do you ever stop to think about it?
The improbability of you and I?
Like a summer snowman, or an autumn breeze in the spring.

That what we truly are.
A pair of snowmen holding hands as we stare down the sun,
Daring it to try and melt us.

But the autumn breeze is strictly you, my love.
Tossed leaves stuck in your hair
As you look off at something that has you distracted.

Such beauty you hold, such elegance.
How shameful it must be for the other women,
That day that they realized they aren't you.

The leaves cling to your hair, but you don't mind.
You're looking over the water in the glistening lake.
I brush your hand and tell you we should go.

You come back to reality and see the sun beginning to set.
The day is done and we have things to do.
Filthy responsibilities and abhorrent work.

Not yet, you plead. Just a bit longer.
The sunset is so beautiful.
Perhaps the sunrise will match it as well.

We humans are not capable of isolation.
We need to hear each other’s voices,
Feel each other’s touch. We cannot
Skate by in life without others by our side.

Those that try inevitably fail.
As loneliness presses in on them,
They crumble like the humans they are,
Leaving nothing behind whatsoever.

Perhaps the meaning to life is not wealth
Nor admiration, nor fame, nor recognition.
Perhaps all it is that we have been placed here for
Is to learn of love and trust.

Truly, would it be so shocking to discover
That this whole time, we were supposed to love?
That we were not here to be alone and survive,
But to unite together and thrive?

Look, no more swimming to the bottom of the pool,
Or looking in the closet for what you know isn't there,
No more trying to hang out alone because you know you'll never be cool.
And man, google it, bleach tastes like ****, and you know you'd be missed so quit.
Sit and follow bit by bit as I list what you're in, because all I have to do is reminisce.
We've been there, man, so cut the crap. We'll draw you a map to get to your cap,
Your maximum capacity.
To be what your Dad could be before he started chasing secretaries behind your Mother's back
and lost his dignity as the dignitary of your household.
We see what you do and what you've lost, you paid the cost of false love and we know.
My friend, we know.
There's no reason, no rhyme, but it doesn't help to whine, nor wine.
We've been there, and we'll tell you, it gets better, my friend, we promise.
It deteriorates and decomposes at a fast rate that keeps you up late as you miss your mate, the one you believe made you great.
But you were great before the ***** walked out the door shaking what brought you there to a fake amour.
There's no reason to sit and cry by the fireplace and wait and waste until your waist is eight,
just because a girl you tried to date couldn't relate to your place in the world.
We know, my friend, we know. And we know it gets better.
So pick yourself up off the floor and dust off that kitty sweater.

What is to say of Destiny?
Is it not what we make it?
Why, then, must I cling to ideals?
Clearly, there is an answer.
My Destiny is my own.
It answers to my call alone.
There is no man behind the curtain
Pulling his levers and pushing his pedals.
Who is to say that I do not control my own life?
Perhaps there should be no definition
The word Destiny should stay blank.
Our decisions are our Destiny, and our choices are our own.

*******, Diana, for everything you’ve done.
For getting a hold on my friend and ******* out his fun
For doing to his happiness what a vampire does to blood
For taking his healthy heart and crushing it into crud.

He used to be optimistic
Before you turned him Chauvinistic.
I promised I’d refrain from calling you a *****,
But thinking on it now, I’d say you’re nothing more.

Now he puts on a façade of a smile
And we hope he’ll be better after a while
But we cannot reverse the things you did to him.
You left with his heart and his world became grim.

You’ve nothing left to say to our friend
You insist that this is the end
Now that you switched to another man like changing the channel,
We all say in a chorus, *******, Diana.

We used to be so close,
But now you’re just a ghost
Of your former self,
Collecting dust on a shelf.

We’ve both changed greatly
And though we tried to rekindle lately,
There is no hope for what we had.
There is no way for us to go back.

You only contact me if things went wrong,
And cry about it to me all day long.
When we used to spend hours on end
Talking about the trouble we were in.

We would spend school days
Spinning in the sun rays.
Never paying attention,
Then talking in detention.

We would be on the phone
And you would be prone
To crying your eyes out
And swearing while you shout.

Now we never talk,
And we never walk
Through the mall on Mondays
Or around the parks on Fridays.

Perhaps someday, we will reunite
Even though all we ever do is fight
And in that time we’ll rediscover
The greatness we found in each other