I was never aware that everything in this godforsaken world is pretend.
Everything is an illusion,
a time waster,
a sweet dream that may or may not go dark.
Everything is made up by people in lab coats
or philosophers with spectacles
or old men with top hats.
Everything is made up by dreamers and livers and do-ers.
So I can be anything I want
and that is such a beautiful thing.

I have a tendency to block out the unwanted.
It's a survival method mastered since and early bird age.
Mind games do help the helpless no matter what philosophers say.
I believe that everything happens for  a reason,
and too often that reason is a lesson
birthed from bad luck sprinkled with karma with a capital K.
Pain is seductive.
The way it creeps ever so silently and makes itself at home
Uninvited things tend to do that best,
understandably:
Where else are they supposed to go?
I ask myself that question every day because I am homeless.
I have a tendency to block out the unwanted   :   I have a tendency to block out myself.

You told me that your arm was numb and swelled
broken out from the stress of life.
You saw this as a punishment from life's misfortune.
I saw it as an opportunity to hold your hand
and tell you it's going to be ok.
You told me that your lips puffed up and hurt
like heartthrob.
You saw it as disappointment, as you couldn't wear your lipstick.
I saw it as luck:
The perfect moment to kiss you and make it better
without having the red color smeared all over my neck.

Better. Better is a term. A word. A concept.
It could mean something more, I suppose,
but in reality,
                                                                                 everything is what it is
                                                                                 we just want to make it out to be more
Everything is nothing - and we don't wrap our heads around this idea
We can't believe this because:
                                                   If we tell ourselves that everything (even the things that mean the world)
                                                                                                         are nothing

Then we are nothing also
And we cannot bare to be nothing.

If I am nothing than I have no purpose, no reason, no substance.
                                                                                                      If I am everything there will be nothing else
                                                                             Which is worse?
To be a grain of sand
or to be the ocean that smothers every other grain?

Lose lose situations are my specialty...........................................Ah! But, what if you are something.
Just something. That is the thing to be. Smack in the middle
between a ghost and a giant,
life and death

That is where I want to be.
Where I want to spend my days,
and that,
that is improvement.