To sit and stare
Going here and there
Is how I tend to exert some flair.
To try and pass the time
With  solutions to some crime.

For example on a bus
Where there is usually more than one of us,
I delude myself with the notion that I can save the day.
By way of applying some misc aid
Without the luxury of knowing it’s a charade.

Like now the lady affront of me could get mugged,
And in my delusion, my fear unplugged
I'd bust a move and bust a jaw.
Thereby giving him the what-for.

Or maybe just a mirage of lust?
That involves one with ample bust.
Not attempting to be seedy or deplorable
But to enjoy company so adorable.
Is one a lad can't miss.
Especially when it leads to steamy kiss.

Perhaps, a vision more complex?

Maybe axles laced with sem-tex.
To throw the vehicle into disarray
That’s how I could save the day.
With flames and smoke
As people choke.
Carrying the near dead
To a temporary bed
There will be no death
When life is resumed with a simple breath.

And all at once I awake in shock
As it appears that I have missed my stop.

Is it naive to hope or dream,
To dream of hope, or hope to dream?

Some say it is naive to ask a question.
A question forged by a dream with hope of success.
Upon the topic familiar to the thespian.
A dream of which you hope would be redeemed.
For when you ask you believe it your task.
When you puck up some courage, its not what it seems.
To ask the question in the dream once had.
Although the answer you receive may or may not be.

Be as you believe in the dream.
The reply comes but not as a beam of warmth and ecstasy.
But a beam of darkness and regret.
So, the hope is gone, the dream is shattered.
With you now standing still and tattered,
With memories.

Memories of the dream now shattered.
And all the while your heart now battered.
Your outlook is now bleak
With you now feeling weak.
Again you repose the question with hope that.
That the dream once had could be more than a dream.
It’s 50/50, yes or no,
However.

We all know the results reside in the latter.
With more planning given to the former.
Due to the hope in a dream now lost.
You stand there now alone and cold with nothing.
Nothing but the ensuing darkness closing in.

Falling now as though of lead.
You try to stumble off to bed,
You weep a silent tear,
Among a wash of despair and fear.
That all will be lost and propped-up for the entire world to laugh and sneer.
And shout “fool!”

For they knew the aforementioned dreams were that of pipes.
And you are certain that they will poke and snipe.
To derive their own sadist torment for the woe that drags you off to bed.

You lie there now weeping
Sobbing and not yet sleeping.
With dreams of dreams,
And hopes of dreams.
And the hope to dream of her again.