’Twas noontide of summer,
  And midtime of night,
And stars, in their orbits,
  Shone pale, through the light
Of the brighter, cold moon.
  ’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
  Her beam on the waves.

  I gazed awhile
  On her cold smile;
Too cold—too cold for me—
  There passed, as a shroud,
  A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
  Proud Evening Star,
  In thy glory afar
And dearer thy beam shall be;
  For joy to my heart
  Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
  And more I admire
  Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.

Is there anyway I could merely fall asleep and just dream... dream..

Dream away from the scars and fights

Fights and scars of all that which oppresses me and depresses me, Reality is no necessity of mine

I shall stick to the depths of my mind

And whatever I may find

I'll hold it, I'll mold it, till I can call it mine.


For what hath reality ever hold for me

Nothing, nothing but pain, misery, and atrocity

Free, I shall be

With the birds of my dreams

For it seems

That the birds that fly in reality

Are trapped and caged hopelessly

By this omnipresent hatred

leave this Earth as it is, old and decrepit


I dare not die

'T'is not death

For I have lived and merely decide

'Tis those that live, that hath given up their breath

I lie awake ready for the ride

The ride that may take me to a new height

Oh sweet cyanide... I sleep again, tonight

We could not run, we could not hide
We could not leave the great divide
We could not see to scream, to speak
We could not hear to cry, to weep
We were not here, we were not there
We were not us, we were the air
We flowed with life, we flowed and flowed
Like great dwarfs bright, we were so cold
Amidst the likeness that we showed
We found ourselves unfree and old.

You know the bloom, unearthly white,
That none has seen by morning light-
The tender moon, alone, may bare
Its beauty to the secret air.
Who'd venture past its dark retreat
Must kneel, for holy things and sweet,
That blossom, mystically blown,
No man may gather for his own
Nor touch it, lest it droop and fall....
Oh, I am not like that at all!