The best way to escape reality without running,
is smiling even though it's obviously fake

People live their lives bound by what they accept as correct & true.
That’s how they define Reality.
But what does it mean to be “correct” or “true”?
Merely vague concepts…
Their Reality may all be a mirage.
Can we consider them to simply be living in their own world..
Shaped by their beliefs?

And the only peace I'll find is in bed falling asleep. Probably dreaming of betters times. My pulse says im alive but my mind is six feet deep. Gaps of absence within a heartbeat, a mix with the silence in the streets. I haven't loved in weeks. And if blood was a river mine would be flooding the banks, overlooking the lands drowning my innocence. Because since when did love or hate make any sense? Is there even a difference between their distance? The world is a beautiful place and I am no longer afraid or are they relevant to their existence? The threads of my soul vibrate to the rhythm of your breath. A constant reminder of what the summer once meant, underneath sentiments and word placements. Because its one thing to be upset, torn and ripped asunder, its another to be whole and put together, but always feeling alone and under the weather. Sleeping isnt exactly sleep if your still wide awake, hoping for a better day to come by. But it doesnt come, and youre stuck singing the same sad songs, praying that the sun would explode, and maybe the light will finally show. Im not empty im just not full, but i love this weather and i love this idea that one day everything will come together. That every thread leads to one another and not everything is lost. not everything is lost, not everything i believed in is gone, because if there's some sort of hope, then maybe there's some sort of reason to live. But this feeling, this rush of emotion that pierces my every pulse, it belongs to someone or something, and ive lost sight of what it was and who it spoke to. Im covering up the ideas that the past is harmful but the future is important, im just trying to find a reason to sleep calmly, that doesnt revolve around you or me.

Maybe this will destroy me and perhaps somethings aren't meant to get better. The summers coming along once again, its burning skin and its welcoming. I never wanted to experience any of this, it feels as if winter is going to last year round and i have no escape in sight, Im falling victim to a rescue turned prison, i can finally see myself getting stronger, a sense of accomplishment i never believed was closer then it was farther. Ive felt lonely these past few months and ive fell farther then i couldve known. The silence echos and the waters are running, the rivers begin flooding the riverbanks of a new found innocence i was told to believe was lost long ago. But here i stand at the edge of my 23rd birthday, still unsure but somehow not so unhappy, i wish i had some sort of reasoning to explain all of this, but perhaps things arent meant to rhyme all the time, they just do and when they dont its nobody's fault not even your own. Because the world is a beautiful place and im no longer afraid, im trying hard to stay above water, im trying even harder to breath, im trying hard to see everything clearly. But im getting there, believe me.

10 cents says scent is the strongest sense.
For now you're just someone who lives in my past tense.
Although none of this makes any sense, these dreams still hold dominance over my residence.
Brilliance abundance of remembrance,  you keep me in bed.
Breathing in nonsense. My mind, an absence.
I'm stuck between the smell and the linger of something that has gone and went.
But it thrives in essence, and chooses to make a mess of all my senses.
Then the snow fell. And the car slid. I'm still overlooking fences.

This isn't a poem.
This isn't a work of art.
This is just a moment of my life.

This evening a girl whom i had recently met confessed something to me, she cupped her hands and looked down at her feet, then slowly tilted her head up a few degrees just enough for my eyes to capture a glimpse of her lips as she spoke. She than said "Youre dangerous..i can tell..aren't you?" To further explain what had happened allow me to backtrack for a moment. A few minutes prior to this we had been talking, and suddenly as per usual upon meeting someone, sometimes even as often as just having a conversation with someone who sparks  my inner interests, she had found herself in contact with the person i become when i speak. I completely dissolve my previous persona and manifest myself in an entirely new personality that seems to have the innate ability to perform human speech at an incredible level. What do i mean? Speech. The humane ability to  vocalize human communication. It is based upon the syntactic combination of lexicals and names that are drawn from very large vocabularies. Speech. Once i start talking i cannot help myself, my words just flow and they seem to always find a way to properly cascade out of my mouth and almost form that of a river. They just stream so precisely as if it were planned however the honesty in the words i choose and the way i speak is something you cannot deny. She asked me questions regarding who i am, what i am,w ** do i want to be. She further asked what do i believe, my interests, my passions, my ideology behind love and hate. I answered each one with the way i have always answered them and with each passing answer, with each passing sentence she began to grow more intrigued almost mesmerized by the way i was able to collect my thoughts so rapidly yet create such a vivid mental picture out of nothing. She then said that this was dangerous, because people like me, we know how to talk, we know how to word the things we want. Were 'persuasive'. Shes right, this is a horrible ability, its both a gift and a curse. To be able to always get what you want but, not me. When it comes down to speaking out for the things and people i want most, i am at a loss for words. All my thought process becomes is sand to water, useless. Just another speck in an endless void waiting for a chance to collect with another grain of sand in the hopes that maybe, ill reach above water level.
In the end, i'm a bird that can soar but becomes far too afraid when he flies too high.
But nothing will ever stop me from perfecting my ability to talk.
i want to create riots in peoples blood as i speak.
I want you to feel something when i speak.
I have a new dream now.