Illusion & hope
Drifting in the midst of a vast, open sea
Hearing whispers from shores unseen
Sustaining reality with pints of memory
Illusions which echo dishonesty

Speaking aimlessly
Awash upon currents which pull me around
Waves caress and waves smash
The hope of the hungry

A journey which has taken years out of me
Months of maybes
The flavour of a foreign currency
Audible illusions designed to fool me

Surely, the shore grows close
Yet, upon this raft I see not
Only water for miles yet
Or, perhaps this too is an illusion
One my own mind has set

do your hair up all pretty like
for those of us that are sure the world
can see our fly-aways, just fly away
our cuticles aren't healed enough
from nights spent jamming our
hands in between the rough *****
and city junctions, telephone wires
hooked to our skin because we're
just fish to greater demons

but

when you hear your old selves
discuss their polarities and crack
the mirror with spiritual hits it's
best to talk them off the ledge
that faint precipice in the distance
where they linger and stare too
long at the other sides, the other wheres
otherwhys and othertheres
see the green grass in other hells
but you tell them that
there's no place like
the here and
now

the here
and now.