What is imagination, but life's
   longing an impossible dream,
a tickling of inner cravings
  as the voice of splendor,
wherewithal's purpose
flourished in veritable endeavors
    of stylistic appropriations,
yearning amidst clouded vapors
  dispersing recognition's
     declaration of id's odyssey,
an idea in transformation
  that which awakens
   substantial sustenance
        nourishing spirit's nature,
  a psychic boon, abstruse or surreal
       motivating individuality's
            creative impulses
           differentiating experience's
       uniqueness mid an ultimate
                  mind blowing instinctive force

I want , I want , I want ,
to be sad

The sun slides down behind the mountain

I want to be nothing inside

Where's the love every body promised
I would find on my doorstep ?

I think I just swept it away
day after day

I want , I want , I want
to be empty now

No pain , no remorse , no joy

If I have no love , I don't want anything
But an emptiness

Where I can fall into and be lost

Falling forever in nothingness

My own personal eternity

And yet I can see ,
see that there is nothing

Falling . . . free
Falling . . . in peace
Falling . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He passed in double yellow
Like he was heading to a fire
Really nothing to you
Yet it provoked your righteous ire

Would it make a difference
If you felt the fiery flames
Watched a simple man's dreams
Consumed in a flippant blaze

Would it make a difference
If you saw his baby trapped inside
Or counted the tormentous days
'til his agony would subside

That waitress was a little rude
Like she wasn't really there
She just found her husband cheating
And she's aware that no one cares

Her heart is shattered inside
But she tries to paint on a smile
The darkness is overcoming
Her future bleak and vile

Could it make a difference
To someone lonely, hurt, and lost
If we measured our words and actions
And we stopped to count the cost

to love you is to breathe, even when the weight of a thousand wars have moved their fight inside my chest.

Mutinous clouds like a suit of armour
Obscuring views.
Crescent moon finds a *****
And lifts the mood.

Bury my smile
And silence my laugh.
Let my chin drop
And my shoulders sag.
In the absence of company
I remove the vestiges
Of the person they think I am.
The last of the great pretenders.