Emerging from the darkness,
Your face is encircled with stars of Orion.
Fog surrounding your silhouette.
Overwhelming force field separating
My aura from yours.
Walk a fine street of plated gold,
Deploring plastic cores,
and camera stores.
Flying fast,
Screaming at the past.
Back down from the galaxy.
I scream with ecstasy;
"I am Shakespearean!
I am Freudian!"
You are Napolean,
King Henry and Led Zeppelin!"
Crash, smash, crack myself open.
Electromagnetic magnetism.

Happiness,
A silly thing.
Happiness,
A trivial thing.
Does one only have to sing?
Choir and priestly men may argue yes,
But I can't help but think, maybe this is all in jest.
Does joy really come from the gospel?
Or is it all just a psychological spell?
Must we look to the savior for love?
Or should love be handed to us?
I went on a bus,
Just last Tuesday,
I was puzzled by the lack of happy faces.
Snarls, apathy, stress, boredom.
Is happiness only in God's kingdom?
The search goes onward,
It's everyone's quest.
Must we rid ourselves of our everyday pests?
Pry the day away and yet no one can tell me,
What does it take to find happiness?
I am pleased whilst lucid,
For I am incoherent and I may live from within.
Is happiness right underneath my skin?
Does this indeed imply,
That death is always the best state we will ever be in?
Does this tell me to act as I wish?
Is one really at best immune to others?
If I had my druthers,
I would paint myself pink,
And ride a fuchsia elephant,
Alas, I can't!
Society stops me in my tracks!
Is happiness perfection?
Or simply satisfaction?
Then why oh why would the world lie?
Does true happiness exist?
If it did, it wouldn't be so very sly.

I shatter my mirrors,
I shatter my mirrors.
With my mirrors, I gauge my eyes.
I cry,
We cry,
He laughs,
She cries.
Because it is the sapphire eyes and gilded silk we covet.
Because it is the deflation of our balloons and lifting of our baggage.
We desire.
Oh higher deity, go higher.
Oh higher conscious, fly higher,
Do tell me,
Why are some blessed with such commodities?
Why must we all look from a distance at such mere curiosities?
Isn't the economy so deflated already?

The facilitator said,
Go home and write a page tonight
And let that page come out of you
Then it will be true.
Well,
I live in a house
Like so many others
I have two parents,
An older brother,
And four dogs.
Fifteen going on sixteen,
I am more or less your average sophomore.
I like to read things that aren’t too long,
But just short enough to feed my head.
I like to feed my head with new things,
Because otherwise life is a meaningless circle.
I have 3 life plans
One for if I am in poverty,
One for if I am middle class,
And one for if I am rich.
This way I will never be unhappy
At least due to money.
Perpetual unhappiness and stagnation is my greatest fear.
And to run in a meaningless, monotonous circle.
I will do every thing that makes me feel alive
And helps me embrace my role in the context of the whole.
Because I have one.
And so do you,
Mrs. Sarna.
As does everyone.
It is important to note that I am an atheist.
Not even "God" can judge me.
I can barely even judge me ,
“You shall love your crooked neighbor with your crooked heart.”
And that,
Facilitator,
Is the quote I impart with you,
Because ambiguity is a vice of mine.

"I'm sorry about what you've been through."
"I'm happy you're happy now."*
As our bodies touched in your strobe light room,
I whispered,
"I wish there were more people who were nice like you."
I didn't know if I believed it,
But I meant it anyway.
You pulled me closer,
and whispered,
"I wish there were more people like you."
I didn't think you meant it,
But I liked it anyway.
We kissed forever,
On a single night,
Of our minds dancing together,
Like the lights in your strobe light room.

I think you left your chihuahua chains on my doorstep.
I think you left,
And brought your secondary school acting company to laugh,
At my hopeless attempts to paint a fence.
I think you all laughed when I drowned at the aquarium.
Did I tell you I travelled idly through the galaxy?
The stars told me your secrets,
Now you're out to pull me down to Hell,
Though I always wished you well,
All my post-cards from purgatory said so.
I think I thought these things,
But I think my mind played a ***** trick on me.
I think that trick was you.
Remember, you tried to flush my doppelganger down the loo?
Maybe I'm just mad,
Heaven does that to the best of us.
Giving you my prized potion of the wizards,
You scream in mock terror,
But still secrete pus.
Wouldn't it be swell,
If we could live could live amongst elves?

Entering the blackness,
A blind,
Blonde,
Astronaut I am.
Oh,
My hair didn't reach my brain.
Your force has a certain strain.
You are all the same.
All the same.
Humanity,
And what ever happened to originality?
My lower conscious tells me to succumb,
My pride holds up,
It beats the race,
The winning streak,
Take a peek,
And you'll see,
I'm a human,
But barely any longer.
I'm still rather somber,
You still can't see why,
And I can't try any longer,
But I still look at you
Through my prized rosey binoculars.