I have started to fall in love with dreaming, because every night there is a chance I get to see you. There is a chance I get to talk to you, for you to hold me, and they are all such happy dreams.

I feel things when I dream. I feel so impossibly happy when I'm with you. My heart beats faster in my dreams when you tell me that you miss me. It is so close to reality, it is honestly so scary how vivid it is.

I think the worst part is when I wake up. I wake up and this feeling of incredible pain overwhelms me. I look at the time and see if I can quickly fall back to my dreams again so I can see you one last time. But when it's time for me to wake up, I rise with a heart heavier than stone.

I close my eyes and you are all that I see

even when open
on occasion  the outline
of U
is a holographic letter
a word imprint hallucination  of you
present and on my peripheral
at the corners of my eyes in 3 -D
and on my lips,
you linger
where you never were before
my world fell down and I found you
fetal by my side.

How could the mountains
forget
the ground beneath them

or the clouds deny
the sky

we bear this mark
this Galactic conception
and yet
we become fictional

a small etch
of understanding

nonexistent sketch
in the dredge pituitary

a one
dimensional edge
we watch like
a picture
show

existentialist
and it's fiery
seed

shooting it's
burning flames into
the black womb
soon to die
or birth a moon,

the candle is the soul
it is intent
that keeps it lit,

it is our lack of
immaculate
perception
that pulls it apart

Roche's limit
yearning
to string pearls
around heavenly
bodies
as
charisma reaches
to embrace
a burning,
and I see fire.

Every thing i say
Comes right back to my ear
Hearing my words bouncing off
Of an empty atmosphere

Enigmas in the wind
Can't anybody hear?
Hello, is anyone there?
Or are my words just unclear?

Each sound returning
Continuing the fear
Hollow sounds fading out
Only to disappear

Rain
t r i c k l e s
             d
o
    w
n
the gutters into the
small
p u d d l e
collecting
        below,
drip,
drip,
drip,
plop,
plop,
plop,

water       into the
falls        puddle,
splashing onto your
stationary
        sneakers.
can’t make yourself
M O V E
[out] of the r   i
      a  n.
because you can’t tell
the
difFerence b e t w e e n
the t
e
    a
r
    s
from the clouds
and the t
         e
    a
r
                    s
from your eyes.

I am numbed by the loss of companions & loved ones,

all set out to fulfill their destinies

in continents of unfamiliar names;                  trackless wastelands.

I am on a self-discovery, in ruins…

                                               whereabouts remain unstated.

Our little road trip
Don't know the destination
Whispering lip to lip
No amount of hesitation
You bring the snacks
While I give directions
Our little road trip
Don't know the destination