As I descend the stairs at night
The pictures come alive
In my mind
And the creatures in my head
Crawl from behind the blinds
And shrink across the floor
And materialize through doors
And the paintings on the walls
The little boys and girls creep out
But their smiling faces
Have been left behind in the world
Of which they just hopped out.
All the the movies and stories that I’ve read
The scary ones that one should never read in bed
Play out before my eyes
In my mind
But the mind is more powerful in the dark of night
And what would normally stay inside my head
Now is just as tangible as that being said.
Mirrors and windows and dark little corners
And cupboards and closets, the air slightly warmer.
I’d close my eyes
But it only gets worse
Because the pictures in my head
Just grow and they seem to get larger
They expand and the twist and morph into worse
Than the scariest stories is movies or books
I feel across the wall for a light switch
And I could swear a felt a touch
Oh my gosh i breathe hush brain hush
It was only my cat
But I swear I’ll get him in the morning for that.
Every turn of my head fills me with dread
And every slight noise has me running for the covers of my bed.
My fingers creep across the wall in desperate search of the light
But I hit something unfamiliar
The texture not right
Oh my gosh dad...you put tape over the light?
Now, what am i supposed to do
The other switch on the opposite side of the room?
I take a deep breathe
And with all my speed I dash
And hit the wall with undeniable force
And again scan the wall with my hands to find what I search.
Finally the light flicks on and I let out my breathe
that realize i’ve been holding from I don’t know when since.
Everything that played out in the dark of the night
Has faded away with the replacement of light.
I grab my phone and again hit the light
And dash upstairs with all my might.
Oh my gosh.
I’m alright.

I didn’t find a lucky penny
So I flipped it over for someone else to find.
And then I turned the corner and dropped a dime
Just in time
For a little boy to pick it up and yell
“hey mom, I found a dime!”
And I couldn’t help but smile
As the little boy’s hand slid to his pocket
But he didn’t drop the dime inside.
He held it inside his pocket
And would not let go.
Because to that little boy,
That dime was the most money he had ever known.
It could buy him some shoes, a ball, or even a car.
Because money is just money when you’re little
And even a dime can take you so very far.
I hope his mother won’t spoil his fun
And just let his imagination run.
He turned another corner and was gone.
On my way to the store that day
I also dropped a dollar,
Just so someone could end their day
with “I guess today was okay”.
In the end I made it home
With nothing in my pockets,
Just a pencil and a stone.
I never found a lucky penny
But I left plenty for the crowds.
I had no money,
But I was happy
From all the smiles and the shouts.
I’d turn my dollars into quarters,
and quarters into dimes
And those into pennies,
Just so I could leave you something to find.
So next time you find a lucky penny
Please think of me,
And how I have nothing but I am happy.

I am oh so very frustrated,
Every time that I pray.
I hope so hard there is a god,
I’ve convinced myself there must be a way.

This life I life cannot be the end.
I cannot live deprived of plans,
Crafted and mulled over in my creator’s mighty hands.
I need to have a purpose.
I don’t want to live for just a life.
And what’s the point
In pressing on for just worldly strife?

If no god exists,
Then when I die,
I’m neither here nor anywhere,
Indefinitely interred in the earth.
My condemnation record bare.

If there is no god above,
There is no wrong or right.
There is no sadness in a death,
If all there is, is day and night.

When I close my eyes and cry,
It’s not because I pray.
It’s my hands clasped in desperate frustration,
Hoping that I will find my god someday.

I could let myself go.
I would be shot.
But it would be over.
Since I had lost my faith in god
I did not know where I would go
But I know I would not be in heaven
Good lord I know.
I cursed his name,
When I cried out in pain.
And even when faced with death
I tell myself that my god was to blame.
I could just stop running.
And a bullet would end my march.
My run. My trek.  
My endless march.
This snowy march.
Frostbitten feet.
I knew they were blue.
But of pain I couldn’t speak.
I did not speak,
Because I could not feel.
I was numb to all that was real.
Or maybe it was just the cold.
A medical reason that i could not feel.
Or had my mind been made so numb,
So that I could continue on this fate I’ve won.
This fate of earned by following faith.
Faith in a god who alone is the very reason I am in this place.
The fact that I could no longer exist,
It fascinated me.
I could just stop running.
I would cease to be.
This thought enveloped me.
Shocked me.
Stuck to me like glue.
The idea of dying, itself, was nothing new.
It’s just never something,
I thought I would wish upon myself so soon.
I could just give up.
And end my pain.
But that would be so very vain.
Because, my father, he could not press on,
If he knew I would soon be gone.
And so for him,
I drag me feet,
Across this snow,
Through wind and sleet.
I’m almost completely numb,
But my father’s heart still beats.
He is the reason I stay alive.

Something terrible has taken god,
I can’t seem to find him anymore.
I lost my joy.
I’ve lost all hope.
And all my love is gone.
Where is his mercy,
Where are his arms,
Why should I sing to a god,
Who can’t keep his chosen people out of harm.
My eyes are cold.
My heart is stone.
This is how I’ve condemned myself to be.
My feet are numb.
My mother’s gone.
And smoke is all I see.
I used to sit up on a hill
And talk to god about the sky.
I’d tell him how my day went,
And thank him for my life.
But now I curse his very name
The sky is scowling with gray clouds of smoke.
How can a god to loves his child,
Do this to whom’s very existence he spoke.
His turned us into vessels,
We are just an empty carcass with a heart,
We have a brain, we our stomaches
But our souls chose to depart.
I looked up at my father,
Whom i’ve looked up to all my life,
I searched for a smile in his sorrow
But all I saw was tears in his eyes.
Surely there must be a god,
Though I see he’s not with me.
How can a got who loves his children,
Be content with what he sees?
And surely he must be content,
For if he disagreed
I know that he could send someone
Who could certainty set us free.
I guess this means he does not love
As much as I once thought.
Or maybe I was simply blind,
To if there is a god or not.

We think that a dream takes us from reality
But what if we are wrong.
If the dream is what is real
And so called reality is wrong?
What if waking up is falling in
And being consumed by what’s within?

Or what if neither here nor there in anything substantial?
Because in this life or in a dream
Their paths of cross are not so able.
When you are in a dream only snippets of reality are recalled
And in real life we seldom remember our dream
We only remember waking up when we fall.

What if both worlds are just as real
Just so different they can’t cross.
If waking up is falling into a world that would otherwise be lost?
What if falling asleep is falling out of one world and into the next?
What if on the other side of your subconscious
A completely separate life exists?

But the worlds of dream and this
Contradict what each says is true.
In this dream or this reality
This seems like nothing new.

In a dream it does make sense
Though when we come out of falling in
We realize that it must have been a dream
Because those dreams just could not have been.
But when you dream you say that “reality” is false
You ignore the laws of so-called life
And live in the world that you are currently brought.

What if waking up is falling in
To your other side of life.
What if falling out is closing your eyes,
And showing up in what is right?

All you touch and all you see
Is all your world will ever be.
But who knows if this is all a dream?
A figment of some higher dreamer’s dream.
But if we are all just a dream,
Do we not all still exist?
In this world that we are in
We can feel and think and touch,
And so even if none of us exists
Could this still be enough.
We think the choices that we make
Are things that we have picked.
But in the end it doesn’t matter,
Because we think, what we think.
But if my thoughts,
If they are not mine,
But from someone else’s dreaming mind.
Honestly, I do not care.
Because if I do not exist,
What I think is real isn’t even there.
If no choice is my own,
And nothing here is real.
Nothing matters in the end,
If nothing in this life is real.
But all they touch and all they see,
Is all their world will ever be.
And what if this is my dream?
If you and you and you.
Are some strange combination
Of some people that I knew
In a life that is outside this dream,
A never ending dreamer’s dream.
Because when you are within a dream,
Everything makes sense,
To the dreamingly so conscience mind
Nothing is false pretense.
All I touch and all I see,
Is all my world will ever be.
What if this is your dream?
What if you are really lying in bed,
And everything that is and has happened is all inside your head?
What if the past as you know it,
Is all just fabricated,
And ingeniously and subconsciously innovated
To fit what I just stated.
But if its so,
And this is all just an act,
Put on by your sleeping mind,
How am I to act?
That is not up to me, you see,
If this dream is yours.
You are the one who determines my words,
And decided who next will open up that door.
If this dream is yours,
I only one request.
Please, please,
Make the teacher cancel our next test.